Severed
by Caleigho Meer
Summary: The worst has happened. Four became three.
1. Chapter 1

The page blurred with the tears as Raphael scraped them away with a knuckle grinding into his eye. The pen in his hand trembled with the weight of words, the anguish roiling in his gut like a storm. Master Splinter had told him that writing was supposed to be some sort of healing balm that would somehow make the pain a dull throb and less of a stab wound. So far, Raphael was failing miserably at it, but at least the irritation provided a needed distraction. Swallowing hard, he drew another shaking breath, and forced himself to continue the scribbling that only bordered on legibility.

_I don't remember a hell of a lot more than the sound of the brick cracking as the bastard brought it thundering down across Mikey's skull. It ripped through us all like gunfire, and even Leo recoiled at how damn loud it was. Mikey's nunchucks fell out of hands, and he just….toppled. Crumbled to the ground, like he had been lopped off at the knees. I saw the blood slithering from the huge gash in the back of his head. Mikey had landed on his side, his face haloed in the gold circle of the streetlight. He looked so damn still, like one of those sleeping cherub things I see on gravestones. Leo was already slicing his way through to our baby brother, face twisted in shock as he stooped to protect him. I drew my sais to fend off the ones that I could to clear the way. Donny and Leo were the motherin' types. _

"_Mikey." I heard Donny's shocked, soft voice floating up behind me, and then the snarled roar.. It was a wail like a cornered animal, and I never, ever want to hear that horrible sound again._

_I felt Donny's hands on my shell, as he shoved me aside so hard I nearly fell. There was that wailing scream again, as Donny, who could never smash a bug without guilt, and who never, ever inflicted hurt on anybody unless he had to, lashed out, with his bo one beige flying arc of rage. He brought it flying down from his hands like some god with a lightning bolt as he hurled it into the heads of Mikey's attackers. I heard the bone crunch, and the shrill cry that bled out from the wilted, bent faces as Donny's bo went from beige to red, and those bastards went from living to tortured to dead in a minute, maybe less. _

_I stood rooted and watching, unable to move or understand, as Donny kept flogging them, long after they had quit moving, or screaming. Grunt, smack, crack, grunt, smack,crack, until their skins had split open, and I could see the dull gleam of skulls white against the muck of bruises and blood. _

_A hiss of breath, and a whimper of fear. Leo was on his knees ,his hands clutching Mikey's head as the blood seeped through his shaking fingers. Donny was far too pissed off to notice, as he just kept twirling and damaging like a wasn't enough that he had broken their bones. He wanted them crushed into the dust, and he kept hammering at them, like they were bugs to be crushed out of existence. _

_Leo screamed his name, and Donny did not stop, or even slow down the slaughter. Leo shuddered again, and turned to me, his eyes huge with the silent plea. He stared down at Mikey's bloodied, dented head._

"_Raph...Stop Don. Please! Mikey's hurt, and I can't-" Another shaking breath, and eyes that looked like they would spill over like an ocean. "I don't know what to do."_

_The tremble in Leo's voice is unmistakable._

_I gave him a curt, little nod, as I drew my sais, and stepped into the path of Donny's wildly swinging bo. I caught his weapon midswing, crossed my sais over it, and held it. Donny snarled like an animal, and I was nearly tossed to the ground when he tried to yank his staff free. I sucked in a breath, and actually hesitated when Donny gave me that fiery eyed look of rage. He looked mad enough to kill. After seeing the blood dribbling off his bo, I was nearly sick when I saw that he already had. Sweet, soft-spoken Donny, a killer?It scared me almost as much as the red pool of Mikey's blood._

"_Donny, snap out of it, will ya? Mikey's hurt!"I felt the bo tremble beneath my sais as the words finally slithered through, somehow. Donny blinked rigidly, as he heaved a long, shaking breath, and looked at me in shock. _

"_Raph?" He squints at me in confusion that twists into horror when he sees the broken heap of bodies-at least 6, it's hard to tell from the tangled knots of limbs and cloth and flesh. I didn't know the exact number. I didn't want to know._

"_They're dead,Donny. Ya can't kill 'em more."_

_His hands wrench around his bo, as he gulps hard, numb and stupid as he looks at the busted pile. I see him start shaking as the tears make his wide eyes even more glassy and huge. He looks like he's choking on the truth. From behind us, I hear Leo's panicked cry._

"_Donny, please! Mikey needs help!"_

_Donny flinches, and shudders as if to pour himself back into awareness. A deep, steadying breath, as he silently hands me the bloodied bo, and calmly turns towards our two brothers._

_Donny managed to stay calm and quiet until he saw Mikey laying still, and the blood. And then, his hand claps over his mouth, and I hear the whimper of terrible, terrible realization._

"_Mikey…"_

_It was only a breath like a prayer as Donny dropped to his knees by Leo. Gently, he shooed Leo's hovering away, as he sucked in another breath, and gulped. I saw his hands start quivering as he gently ran them over Mikey's bowed head, the shaking, scared groan when his fingers actually sank into the dent of broken bone at the back of Mikey's head had crumpled like paper. Any merciful stupidity I had in believing my baby brother had just been thumped on the head was gone. Donny's lips twisted like he was going to be sick. He shut his eyes, for a long moment. And then, he snatched his fingers away as if Mikey would break if touched too hard._

_Helpless._

_We were all so damn helpless. _

_I had always envied Donny's brains, but at that point, I think it would have broken me to know how horrible Mikey's situation really was. Donny never told us until it was over. It was just another burden my gentle brainiac brother bore for us._

_His voice was thin and soft as he looked at me. "Raph, Leo….he's got a severe head wound, and we need to move him, fast. Raph, there's a long piece of plywood by the garbage cans. We can lay Mikey on it, and keep him a bit more still. Go get it, please. Leo, help me."_

_The plywood fractured under my knee when I broke it for easier movement. I brought the thing over to Donny who gave me a quick nod of thanks._

_I stood back, helpless and out of the way, since I was too worried about Mikey to just go kick some more foot ass, and I was too clumsy to really do anything but make it worse. Donny was busy muttering soothing things to Leo, as Leo finally nodded, gripped Mike's ankles. Donny called me over in that same thin whisper._

_Softly, he swept a hand over Mikey, and said, "Raph, you're going to have to help us move him, but we have to be very, very careful. . Raph, I want you to grab his shell, and slide him towards you. Leo, get his legs. When I count to three, we're going to very gently slide him onto the board, together. Ready?"_

_I gripped the edges of Mikey's shell, shoulder and hip the way Donny had asked, and Leo eased his hands over Mike's knees. Mike felt slack as wet string beneath me. Donny held his head and drooping neck, and counted off._

"_One." Shaking hands, shaking breath, my brother laying there, helpless._

"_Two." Leo jerks his head towards me, meets my eyes, and I've never seen my big, untouchable brother looking so damn broken._

"_Three." We lifted Mike, carried him the few inches, lay him down. He felt so light, and yet so damn heavy when he was so still. _

_Mikey was never that still, unless…my gut clenched like a fist. And, my heart nearly broke when I heard the gurgling wheeze burble up from Mikey. It's a strangled wheeze, that's been heaved out through damaged guts and busted ribs._

_Donny meets our eyes, tries and fails to reassure me and Leo, with that faltering smile. "He's breathing. It's erratic, but it's steady. That's good."_

_Leo and I exchange glances. Mikey's laying there like a busted toy, and we should be grateful that his breathing sounds like a hiss from a pierced balloon? _

"_Guys, let's get him home. Once Mike's back at the lair, and I have a better look at what's going on, I'll be able to help him."_

_Donny gently hefts the board, and he's as steady as a mountain in the dark. Who ever knew that the most soft spoken of us would somehow get so strong?_

_Donny was nothing less than a damn hero that night. First, he busted the bastards who had done this to our brother to oblivion. Nothing left but a pile of bloodied, beaten bodies and the sinking feeling in knowing that it was a piss-poor sort of vengeance. It wasn't enough. How the hell could it ever be? And, thank God, Donny went back to the more familiar, soft-spoken peace-maker, and not that animal who had casually broke bones and left the dead humans without a second glance. It was more like something I would do, and it scared me._

_Gently, Donny coaxed me and Leo like we were little kids that needed soothing. He was so effin' patient, the way he guided us through the slippery wet of the tunnels, how he managed to keep us going, but still kept us from bolting like crazy horses in our fear. Mikey still lay sprawled and slack on the plywood. He never moved, never even groaned,nothing.I hated seeing him in pain, but at least it would mean he was still with us. Walking Mikey through the dark tunnels underground was the longest trip in my life. Leo snapped at me more than once to slow down. _

_I couldn't pick between snarling out that he needed to hurry the hell up, or asking him if he thought Mikey deserved to die in the sewer because Leo couldn't pick up the pace. I just glared back. Thank God I didn't say anything, I don't think I could have lived with it if I had…._

_Master Splinter had known that there was something really, really wrong before we got there The entire lair was awash with the flickering gold of lit only lit that many when he knew we needed the light. When we finally carried Mikey back to the lair, he had every light in the place on, tea brewing, and Donny's medical stuff already laid out. Sure, Splinter's seen us all injured. He's taken care of all of us when we've been sick, or hurt, since we were kids. His yellow eyes flickered over our faces, the smile curling up in reassurance, the hands already out to take over, to help, to somehow fix this._

_And then Splinter's eyes fell on the wound, on Mikey's splayed body, and he trembled. He palmed Mikey's forehead with a sound like a sob. _

"_Michaelangelo…."_

"_It sounded like a requiem, something that you'd say over somebody already gone. Donny, brave, brave Donny stared at me, stared at Leo and me and then took charge. "Master Splinter, could you please get the bandages? Guys, I need you to help me lay Mike down."_

_Together, we eased Mikey onto the bed, carefully tucked the bedding around him, arranged the pillows so he could stay rooted and anchored in the least damaging position, I guess. Damned if I knew what good a pillow arrangement did for a head injury, but I wasn't going to argue. Hell, if they wanted the sheets tucked in military formation and folded into roses, I would have done it._

"_I'm sorry to ask this, but I need you two to clear out for a bit so I have some room to get Mikey cleaned up and see what exactly we're dealing with. I'll call you both if there's any change."_

"_Donny, how in the hell can you even think that we're leaving Mikey?" I know Leo meant to sound angry, but his voice is scraped raw. He started trembling again, from exhaustion, from rage, from the hell we had all just gone through. Donny gives me a pleading look, and jerked his head towards Leo. Sighing, I rose, and turned to Fearless. "Come on, Leo, we ain't doing Mike or Don any favors by getting in their way. Let's go."_

_Leo turned to me, and his eyes were storm dark, and brimming with more tears. "Raph, what if….."his words slack off._

_Leo, geeze. Please don't say it. Don't even think it right now, I can't even stand thinking what you're about to say…_

_And none of us could. I see Splinter stiffen as if stabbed. Donny halts his work, and suddenly snaps his head forward. Donny's words are bitten off as he looks at Leo, and only hisses, "Raph, get. Him. ." I had never heard Donny speak that way, and even Splinter lurches backwards in surprise._

"_My son?" The question begs an explanation, as Donny turns to Splinter, and us, nearly in tears. He scrubbed them away with the back of his hand, before he finally answered,"Sensei, Leo, I'm sorry, but I don't have time to do much more than take care of Mikey right now, and I'll be able to do that if I can think. And I can't do that when I have you two hovering. Trust me on this. Raph, could you please take Leo to the kitchen or something?"_

_I narrow my eyes. Splinter gives Donny and me a troubled glance, and then a nod of understanding. "I agree that it is for the best, my sons. Leonardo, please go with your brother, and rest. Raphael, please take care of your brother."_

_I raise an eyebrow ridge at that. What the hell am I supposed to do with Leo? Leo, by then, was looking like he had been shot and just hadn't fallen down yet. So hurting, and helpless and nearly nuts with pain for Mikey. It's sweet and touching and useless at this point. All he's doing now is driving himself and Donny crazy and Donny doesn't need that right now._

_I grunt in answer, grab Leo's slack arm, and pull him to his feet. To my surprise, Leo lets me lead him out of the room, haul him away from Mikey and Donny, from the blood, and the dying, and the helplessness. Normally, it takes nothing less than fists and a knockdown brawl to get my brother to do something he doesn't want. I've had the bruises enough to know that by now. Somehow, it makes me feel worse._

_Dumbly, I lead him into the kitchen, yank out a chair, and gently shove him into sitting. I wince at the way he bonelessly slumps. Leo just sits there in tears, with that slack, blank face, as if he doesn't even notice that he's crying. The tears just dribble down his cheek, and he doesn't do anything to stop them. He's still shaking, still so damn quiet. And for once, when I really need to know what to say, my smart ass mouth fails me._

"_Um…Leo?" He flinches in surprise, the awareness trickling back as he jerks his face towards mine. I hate how my voice sounds so damn shaky and uncertain. I'm no good at this. Master Splinter has wisdom, Donny has his answers, and Mike's got his humor-_

_Mikey. It feels like a fist to the gut. Hell, everything hurts now, and it's made that much worse when Leo suddenly whimpers in pain._

"_Raph!" It's choked, and terrified as the tremble shifts into full-blown quaking. I hear the keening, scrape of sound as Leo finally surrenders into the sobbing. It's quiet, and restrained, and scared, held back so that he can at least spare Donny and Splinter and Mikey the sound of his breakdown. He stuffed his knuckles nearly in his mouth to keep the worst of it muffled._

_My arms feel so strange as I stare at Leo, and awkwardly crush him against my plastron in the embarrassing hug. It's all I could do, and for some reason, it's exactly what he needs. I don't have the words to make this right; I don't have anything but __**this.**__ Leo stiffens and then wilts against me, the tension and that sense of duty suddenly draining out, leaving him with nothing. Nothing more to give, nothing more to hold back, or hold onto. Nothing but me, and that's a damn sad thing._

_For one terrible second, I realized that I was the only thing holding Leo together. Leo's sob had quieted to the lurch of breath, as he finally sighed really deep and tired and whispered, "I'm sorry." His head was bowed in shame, his forehead nearly touching my shoulder._

"_Ya got nothin' to be sorry about, Leo. Now sit down and take it easy, will ya? Mikey's going to be alright."_

_The one thing that made things so crappy between me and Leo is that he always knew that when I was lying. Damned if I knew how. Leo's eyes narrowed, and darkened, as he stared at me over the cup of tea that Splinter had made._

"_No, Raph. He isn't. Don't you understand? Donny didn't kick us out of the lab because we were in the way. He kicked us out because he wanted to spare us the pain of watching Mikey die."_

_Each word felt like a sledgehammer. Truth was supposed to hurt, I knew that. I just didn't know it could hurt so damn much. If things were normal, I would have roared, screamed, fought, hit something just to feel it break. Now? I had nothing but the cobbled bits of false hope and ignorance. Not much, but still better than just letting the words settle into my thoughts until they drove me nuts. I couldn't break down, not as long as Mikey was still breathing, and Leo was acting so lost…._

_I grit my teeth, and scraped up enough anger to sound like I usually did._

"_Ya don't know that, Leo."_

_He sighed, and shook his head, his eyes glistening, the hurt too brittle for sobbing now. As I said, he always knew when I was lying. Sort of like he always knew my anger was my way of keeping a sense of power, or that my sarcasm was a way of keeping the things that scared me to a safe distance. He said nothing, but lay a hand on my shoulder, and squeezed._

_And, with nothing left to say, we sat back down at the table with our troubled thoughts, sipping the warm tea without noticing it was stale. Leo fixed his eyes on the little chipped cup of china, running a finger over the rim in endless circles, sort of like the way the questions kept swirling in my brain. I kept staring at the empty chairs between us. Mikey always sat on my right, Donny, on the left, Leo across from me. If it was this empty with my two brothers In the next room, how could I stand it if the four chairs were only filled by three? That thought made my eyes water, and I blinked it back before Leo noticed, thank God. I never cried. Never needed to, before this. And now, I felt the tears threaten like a dam needing to break. If I let those floodgates open, there was no telling who would drown, or when it would ever stop._

_There was the troubled hesitation of the door to the lab opening. Donny was slinking out, head down like he was surrendering to the noose as he raised those wounded, wounded eyes to ours. He was in tears. His face clenched up, white and withered as he put a shaking hand to his chin. He always did that when he couldn't find the words he wanted._

"_Don, what is it? How is Mikey?" My voice sounded so loud in that silence, and the questions too heavy to do anything but break my brother. Donny's lip twisted in his teeth, as he swallowed._

"_I'm sorry. We tried, I know, we all did, but….it's just not enough, guys. Even if Mikey were human and we could get him to a trauma unit, it wouldn't make a difference. His head wound…it's fatal."_

"_Fatal?" Leo mutters the word, and blinks as if he's never heard it before, as if he can't connect its meaning to the wound, that it means that Mikey's not going to make it._

_Oh, God. That was the closest thing to a prayer I'd ever said, as I felt ice slither and then slice through my awareness, cutting through my thoughts, leaving me numb and stupid and stricken._

_Oh, God, please, not this. Please, please, not Mikey…_

_I didn't know that I had said anything out loud, until Donny carefully lays hands on my shoulders. Anchors of flesh in the sudden horror I'm drowning in. And, as always, my brother gently pulls me back._

"_Raph…Leo…" Each of Don's words are severed off and barely make it past his shaking chin as he buries his head in his hands, and leaves them there for a long moment. There's another long breath, and then he forces his head out of his hands to face us again. _

"_He needs us. __**NOW."**__ The finality in his voice is unmistakable._

_Leo rose from the seat, gave me and Donny a tortured glance, and bolted into the lab. Donny lingered for a moment, met my eyes, as I finally asked._

"_How long?" Donny's lips twitched into a grim, white line. He shrugged, so scraped raw, and brittle enough to shatter._

"_I don't know, but he won't last the night." He lays his hand on my shoulder in sorrow, as if he's trying to take some of the burden of this sudden, unbearable agony from me. Only he can't. Nobody can._

_Something inside of me shattered. Something inside of me made me choke, made the tears burn, made everything but the numbness stop. My knees wobbled, buckled, and I would have collapsed if Donny hadn't caught me, and held me up. Donny swallows hard, and he helps me stand again. He doesn't let go of me, but just sighs for strength as he hitches an arm over my shoulder. "Come on, Raph. Together, okay?" I nodded, and wondered who the hell was carrying who._

_It was only ten feet into the sick room. Ten feet and a lifetime. Ten feet that I forced myself to walk, knowing that the only thing worse than my baby brother dying would be him dying alone because I didn't have the guts to be there. Later, when the hellish hurt had passed from feeling like my guts were being ripped open to just a constant ache, I had cornered Donny for the details. I would ask him what the hell was killing our baby brother, why the hell he couldn't be saved. Donny would explain that our baby brother had been bashed in the skull so hard, that his brain had been pierced by the bone fragments. That Splinter was weeping alone as he took the white linen strips and made it a halo over his dying son's head so that the living three wouldn't see the full gaping wound. That Mikey had already gone through three full blown seizures, convulsing like a turtle earth quake, when Donny had come for Leo and me. That Mikey had spent his last hours on earth going in and out of seizures, and between the sickening twitches and choking breath, Donny thought it a mercy to keep us from seeing until they stopped. He was tortured with the memory of Mikey convulsing. All we had to remember was how peaceful his leaving was._

_Mikey lay cradled in the mound of quilts, and pillows that had been stuffed around his shell to keep him on his back, so Don could inspect the wounds better.I never forgot the sick sound of Mikey's wet, shaky breathing A gurgle, a rasp, a long, weird twitch for air, and then Mikey would go limp and still again. It sounded like he was being strangled. Donny explained that it was part of the dying process, that it was normal, and Mikey wasn't in pain. I couldn't stand to hear any more of it, so the words just blurred and bounced before I could ignore them completely. Master Splinter was bowed, one wiry hand clutching Mikey's as if he were drowning. Leo sat by Mikey's head, his fingers gently stroking the wounded forehead, as he chanted a prayer._

_I swallowed hard, and stared at Mikey's face. Aside from the cruel injury to the back of his head, his face wasn't bloodied, or scarred. It was the shade of alabaster, and his mouth was flung open and contorted from those massive, dredging breaths he kept fighting for. His eyes were shut, and aside from those jack-knife, bone deep twitches for air, he didn't move at all. Didn't open his eyes, didn't give us that big-ass goofy grin that could absolve him of anything. He could be forgiven for anything when he just smiled at ya. Mikey just had that warmth and light, that refusal to let the world, or his brothers fracture that innocence. Never let the world make him hard like me, or fearful, like Donny, or controlling, like , Mikey kept himself free to laugh, treated life like a wash cloth, wrung it for every bit of joy he could get until there was no more._

_Ya know how the sunset sets the sky on fire, and just leaves nothing but the faint bit of light? In the end, that's how Mikey left us. Bit by bit, breath by tortured, lurching breath, getting slower, choking in his chest, spewing back up, and stopping altogether a few times. Donny had hastily reassured us that it was just part of the damn dying process, that those long, horrifying gaps in his breathing would increase as Mikey slid away from us._

_In the end, all we could do for our baby brother was make sure he didn't exit the world alone. All we could do was make sure that he left the world knowing how damn much we loved him. The last things Mikey felt was Splinter's hand, caressing his forehead in soothing circles._

_The last thing he heard was all our pleas for forgiveness that it was ending like this. That we would miss him, and love him, and that he needed to wait for us. That we were so damn blessed to have him with us, and none of us would ever trade that for anything. _

_We fell silent, huddled together around him,holding him while we could, in tears. I remember that Mikey suddenly sucked in this deep breath, sucked it down to his core, long, and slow. There was the same rasping, sick sound as he slowly released it, and then it sounded like a sigh of relief. Another breath, soft, and nearly unnoticed as Mikey gently exhaled it. His pulse fluttered like butterfly wings beneath my fingers. I heard the dull throbbing thud of a few more erratic heartbeats that were so faint that I didn't know when they stopped completely. One more rigid spasm, a groan as something deep inside seemed to fly free with the last breath that was slowly, slowly released. _

_Mikey had died._


	2. Words and Wounds

"Mikey's gone."

Donatello spoke the words in disbelief as he held Mikey in his arms. Donny was perplexed at the choking sound, the deep, deep sigh, and then, the silence after the breathing stopped. Numbly, Donatello lay a shaking hand over the vein inside Mikey's wrist and waited for a few endless, tortured moments for a pulse. There was none. Raphael roughly shoved him aside, snatched Mikey from his protective clutches, and rattled the limp body.

"Mikey?" Raphael snarled in disbelief, pawing at his baby brother, searching for something, anything other than _this…_

"Mikey?" It was soft, and uncertain, and full of disbelieving fear, as Raphael started shaking with the horrible realization.

"Mikey!"

Raphael's wailing cry echoed all of their grief as he crumbled. Raphael buried his face against the still plastron, his hands still clutching at Mikey in anguish. Donnatello trembled with the finality of the whole thing, chafed under the need to scream in the sudden, heavy hush of astonishment. Trembling, he lay a finger underneath Mikey's chin, felt for the pulse, lay a palm over the open mouth to feel for the breath. There was neither. Just that long, scraped out breath, the spasm, and he was gone. Leo rigidly lurched forward, stared unseeing at Mikey's face, blinking. Raphael finally relinquished Mike's hand. Donny's heart broke anew as Raphael caressed the flaccid knuckles, and lay Mike's hand on his chest with a gentleness he had never seen. Splinter had his paw laid across the forehead, eyes shut, head bowed, quietly praying.

Raphael narrowed his eyes, and jerked his head towards Donny with a sharp glance at Mikey. Donny swallowed hard. Raphael needed it confirmed that Mikey had died. Donny's eyes flooded as he gave them the agonized nod, and the even more horrific truth.

"I'm sorry, Raph. He's gone." Donny mouthed the words to spare Splinter and Leo. Raphael's face contorted in tortured understanding, as he glanced at Splinter and Leo. Trembling, he rose, and draped an arm on Splinter's quivering shoulder. The old rat leaned into the partial embrace, and lay his spindly, shaking paw over Raphael's hand for strength.

"Thank you, my son." Raphael felt the quick squeeze of grateful fingers, as Splinter bowed his head, and whispered. "Your strength will be needed, Raphael, to get through the dark days to come."

Raphael's tears had stopped, leaving in their place a frigid anguish far too deep for something as simple as crying any more. Leo's wrenching, keening whimper sounded like a trapped animal as he reared his head back, and screamed, a soul-deep scream of grief. Raph had whipped his head around at his older brother, and stared at him for a long silent moment. Lurching to his feet, Raph caught Leo before he collapsed to his knees, and held his oldest brother long enough to gently lower Leo into the chair.

Giving Splinter and Donny a helpless glance, he awkwardly draped a protective arm over the quivering shell. He didn't speak any soothing, false words. He didn't have any. Leo's tremble approached the level of a spasm. Raph just sighed, and allowed Leo to fling his arms around his neck and cling to him like he was drowning. Or like he was scared of losing him.

The silence was broken at last by Master Splinter. Quietly, he lay steadying, reassuring paws on all of them, let his touch linger long enough to convey comfort. Splinter gently direct their attention away from the horror of the loss by quietly clearing his throat, and waiting. Even grief was not enough to break their loyalty, or their respect for him. His remaining sons turned to him, brokenly, as Splinter wiped a tear.

Splinter gazed at them all, the sorrow and love mingled together as he spoke. "My sons…my brave, brave sons…" his words were halted as he shut his eyes to control the sudden chokehold that the sobs had left in his throat.

"I have no words to offer comfort, my sons, for this pain is much too raw, sudden, and deep for us all to accept. This grief is as a wound for us all that I do not know yet how to heal. Draw comfort in each other, my sons, for while four may now be three on earth, four can never become three in our hearts."

Splinter bowed his head, as if he were bearing a terrible, terrible load. Running a hand tenderly over Mikey's cold temple, he continued, "Tonight, we will rest here, together, and tomorrow, we will call Miss O'Neil, and make arrangements for Michelangelo's resting place."

They all flinched at the sudden growl from behind, as Raphael jerked to his feet, spat, bitterly. "Where the hell are we holdin' his funeral, Masta Splinter? The humans killed him, ya really think they're going to let him rest in peace?"

There was the soft, apologetic sigh, as Donatello swallowed hard, and answered for Splinter. "The farm house, Raphael. Mikey and I…found a place at the farm house in case this sort of…thing ever happened."

Raphael narrowed his eyes. "Ya think of everything, don't ya, Don? Why the hell were ya looking at places to bury us, huh? Ya anticipated this sort of thing ahead of time, and this is just part of the plan?"

Donny's eyes slid into glittering slits of anger as he turned to look at Leo, and Splinter. Splinter looked old, and fragile, and Leo was staring at the confrontation, wide-eyed and wounded. Gritting his teeth, each word came out, soft, and biting as a whiplash.

"Raphael, in case it hasn't escaped your notice, we are _mutants._ We can't just hold a funeral service for Mikey, unless you want his remains to be desecrated for nothing more than the satisfaction of depraved curiosity. As for _planning this sort of thing in advance-"_Donny snarled and lurched forward until he and Raph were only inches apart. His face was contorted in alien rage. It was the same horrible expression that he wore as he took down Mikey's killers. Raphael inwardly shivered.

"if I knew this was going to happen, I would have stopped it, you _bastard_!"

Raphael's jaw dropped, and Leo whimpered, as Donny continued, anguished. "You really want to know where we found the place, and why we were looking, Raph? It was for _you_!"

Raphael was torn between bewilderment and anger, as Leo whispered, pleading, "Donny, stop! Please, just-"

Donny's lip twisted against his teeth, as the words burbled forth. "It was after you were beaten into a coma and suffering a head wound of your own, Raph. It's a good thing for you that you're so hard-headed, because you lived through it, and Mikey _didn't."_

Splinter exhaled sharply, the words dying on his lips.

Leonardo winced in horrible waiting for the blows, or the blustering fury of Raphael to explode.

Donny clapped a hand over his mouth in absolute shock at the cruelty of his under the realization of his own viciousness, Donny gulped, prayed that Raph was typically thick-skinned and pissed off over the whole thing.

"Raph…-" The apology faltered into miserable silence.

The words seared like acid to Raphael's soul. The sudden hurt was so overwhelming that Raphael couldn't speak. Leo glanced helplessly at his brothers, as Raphael just stood there, wounded like he had been stabbed, and simply hadn't fallen yet. Raphael started tremoring, his fingers lacing into fists, the tension in the room exploding as he gave them all a tortured look, and fled.

Donny's dash after him was halted by Splinter's insistent paw on his shoulder. At his small sound of protest, Splinter raised those burning eyes to his.

"Donatello, your words were spoken out of haste and grief, and I know that you did not mean them. Do not let your hurt poison your love for your brother, or I will lose another son, and that would be unbearable for us all. Allow Raphael his time of solitude to heal before you apologize. To seek him out now would only provoke his anger, and that would be too much for Raphael to face now."

Donny exhaled a shaking breath that bordered on a sob, as he flung out his arms, helplessly. "I'm sorry, Master Splinter, I just-"

The old rat shushed him with a gentle paw. "Grief can make even the most stalwart mind lose its focus, my son. Have a care with how you treat your brothers, but do not let guilt control your actions. It is both understandable, and forgivable."


	3. Solidarity

"It was after you were beaten into a coma and suffering a head wound of your own, Raph. It's a good thing for you that you're so hard-headed, because you lived through it, and Mikey _didn't."_

The words broke something inside that blows never could. Raphael shuddered at the sudden heat, and the hurt that flooded through him. He saw Leo's eyes flare open, huge and scared, and lost. And Donny's jaw had clamped shut like a trap, complete with the fist stuffed against his teeth, as if he could just snatch the words out of the air, and somehow swallow them down again. Raphael saw Don's hand flung towards him, the contrite horror flickering over his face, as Donny rose and tried to take it back.

Splinter's paw was already extended to his clenched hands, as he lurched away.

Raphael's eyes slid from his living brothers to the dead one, and he couldn't stand any more of it.

Any of it. He had turned on his heel, burst into a blind, frenzied attempt to escape before he collapsed and drowned in the tidal wave that was threatening to take them all down. He hurled himself like a cannonball down the sewers, paying no heed to where he was going. H didn't give a damn as long as it was away.

_You lived through it, and Mikey didn't_.

Each word felt like a stab wound. The sewer's puddles against his ankles felt cold, but not nearly as frigid as the tears that blurred the world. Exhausted, spent, and shattered, Raphael finally stopped.

His ribs hitched in protest from the injuries of the fight, forcing him to double over and clutch his side with a futile attempt to shield himself. He halted his erratic path long enough to bury his head in his hands, and scream. The depth of the pain rippled through his gut, deeper than flesh, deeper than bone, rising high in the wail as Raphael raised his sai, and slammed it into the wall. Brick shattered beneath its point, and he continued his hacking, screaming attack of rage against the wall until he was sweat-soaked and trembling.

Too tired to fight any more.

Too damn drained to even walk, and too damn broken to even try.

Drawing a shaking breath, Raphael allowed himself to slither downward, pull his knees close to his battered shell, and buried his head in his hands.

"_You lived through it, and Mikey __didn't."_

The words were spat in a moment of helpless chaos, of anguish too deep to even contemplate, from a brother who loved him. Donny still gave a damn about Raph….right?

Raphael's gut and jaw clenched as he curled palms to his forehead and almost whimpered. Old memories flared, grew teeth, bit down.

Raphael shuddered at the tortured thought Donny had obliviously and cruelly flung at him.

"_You lived through it, and Mikey __didn't."_

Raphael lay a hand on the side of his head, felt the ugly raised flesh of the barely visible scar. A glass shard had pierced his scalp when he was flung through the skyline by the Foot. And before he had been thrown off the roof, he was almost beaten to death. The steady, staccato of fists against his flesh, the pummel of kicks, and the blows hadn't brought him down.

Didn't break anything more than his bones.

Didn't shatter anything in him but his belief that he, too, could die like the rest. No, what brought him down, and nearly killed him was the final, savage blow to the head.

He remembered the thundering crack against his skull, the icy ache of his brain rippling from the stunned shock, the way his whole body spasmed, the agony. Skull thundering, his body falling, the tortured, blurred minutes of numbed realization that he was dying. The hell of seeing his brothers in tears and being able to do nothing.

_Mikey…._

The whimper erupted, as Raph clapped a hand over his trembling jaw.

_Was that what Mikey went through?_

Raphael quivered at the sickening image of Mikey's skull collapsing, the blood, the finality of it all. And then he thought of his baby brother's enduring the pain….

_Did Mikey suffer?_

The sound of the brick was like a whiplash anew. Mikey had toppled, and lay slack at their feet as string. His eyes were shut, his features serene. Not twisted in agony, not crumpled like paper, or sobbing. No wince except from Donny, who knew first how bad the injury was. No whimper, except from Leo, because he was so overwhelmed with the understanding that he couldn't stop it. No mad scramble, no flicker of movement, nothing.

Tears burned more than thoughts now. Raphael rose from his crouch; stared bleery eyed at the sewer behind him, and felt the long corridor circling back like a trap. Swallowing hard, he bolted like a scared rabbit. He fled, heedless of where his feet were instinctively carrying him. All he knew was that he had to escape, or go crazy.

April was startled out of her light doze by the odd, soft sound, of knocking at her apartment door. Squinting at the green glare of the alarm clock, she frowned at the early morning hour, and scrambled into her robe and slippers. Warily, she stared through the peephole of the door. At the sight of the quaking, bent Raphael, she swallowed, awake now. Something was horrifically wrong. She unlocked the door, flung it open.

Silence, and a breath. Raphael was so affected that he couldn't even meet her eyes for the long seconds before April finally found her words through the shock of both seeing Raphael so unexpectedly, and in this state.

"Raph?"

Raphael stood in the doorway, trembling. His eyes were ravaged; his head bowed, and wilted, his agonized silence so much louder than his sarcasm ever could be. April's irritation turned to fear.

"Raph? What happened? What's wrong?"

April saw his dark eyes fill, as he helplessly shook his head, shuffled backwards, brokenly attempting to speak.

" 'M sorry, April. I shouldn't a come here….."

Raphael was already backing away, the tremble growing into full-blown quaking. He looked trapped as he continued his shuddering retreat away from her.

April stepped out into the hallway, and halted his escape attempt by the grip on his arm. She felt the bicep tense instinctively, as Raphael stopped, and stared at her, wide-eyed. He was more than capable of breaking her bones, her simple grip held no power to keep him here. She had never seen him look so wounded, and it seared her to the core. Cautiously, she stepped aside from her doorway, and rubbed a gentling hand over Raph's tensed shoulder.

"Raph, come inside, and tell me what's wrong." It was a command, however softly voiced. Raphael winced, and tried to pull away.

"April, I….gotta go….Sorry…" Gently, he shrugged off her grip, and recoiled when she firmly planted both hands on his shoulders, and attempted to steer him through the door of her apartment.

"Raph. Come inside. You don't have to talk, if you don't want to, but just stay until you get your head on straight."

Her green eyes shimmered with understanding, as she tilted her head towards the warm light. "Raph, you're family. I'm here for you, you know that."

He met her eyes, then, the plea for understanding warring with his desperate need to flee again. She pursed her lips, squeezed his shoulder, and pulled him forward. He took a halting step towards her, face contorting.

Lurching onward, he finally crossed the threshold into the safe haven of her apartment. April closed the door behind them, and herded him over to the couch. Rigidly, he lowered himself into the soft cushions, flinching at the memories. He hadn't been back to her place since the attack. April was already belting her robe in place, as she lay a demanding hand over his shoulder.

"Raph, I'm going to go get us some tea. I want your word that you won't leave."

The whimper scared her, nearly as much as seeing him shove his forehead against his palms, as if to press the horrible thoughts into submission. Alarmed now, she sat down beside him, eyes scanning the bent shell, the old scars for some idea of what could have reduced Raphael to this state.

"Raph, what's wrong? Are you hurt?" Her eyes flickered over his, and came to rest on the back of his neck. Raphael was bruised and scarred. Nothing new, however much it hurt her to see. She hated when any of them were wounded.

"I ain't hurt, April." Raphael whispered, as he drew in a shaking breath, as his shoulders hitched up, and his face contorted.

"It ain't me, April!" His voice grew shrill with the tidal wave of emotion, and April's jaw fell when Raphael buried his head in his hands. He crumbled, writhing in the effort to speak as he finally choked it out.

"It's Mikey. He….he's gone…"

April could only make out snatches of what he was trying to say, since his voice was muffled by both sobs and fingers.

"Gone? What do you mean, Raph? Is he hurt?"

Raphael twisted like an animal in a snare. He shook his head, threw it back in the attempt to force the words past his lurching, choke.

"He's _dead_!" It exploded from his throat, but felt like the bomb had gone off in the pit of his stomach. He shook his head in tears. "April, Mikey's gone."

The finality in his voice would have convinced her. The tears made the horrible truth all the more real.

Her face was only inches from his, as she paled, and tilted her head. He felt her groping hand twist against the top of his, and grow into claws.

"What happened?" The question was incredulous and disbelieving, as she feels the tears and the screams already burning up her throat. It's strange how wet tears feels like lava, and how water can choke.

Raphael feels the hysterics he's somehow held in burst out like a breaking dam holding back the flood.

"The Foot took a brick to the back of his head, and broke it like an eggshell. Mikey fell down like day cut 'em off at the knees. Donny killed six of 'em, and we carried Mikey back to the lair…April, _he died! My baby brother died tonight!"_

His voice grew shrill, and it suddenly grows the edge of a knife, before it falls into silence. He sat there, palms splayed, and stunned. He felt the human palm against his chin, trying to convey reassurance. It's not in him to shove April away. April gently forced him to look into her eyes, which were churning with some troubling thought.

"Raphael, where are your brothers? Do they know about this?"

He shrugged his face out of her grip with a snarl. "Hell, yeah, April. They know. I just came back from carrying Mikey to the lair with 'em."

A flicker of confusion made her eyebrows arch downward into a pinched line. "Then shouldn't you be with them right now? You don't think they need you?"

He started to tremble again, and he shook his head, curtly. "Donny's pissed at me for livin' through it."

April shook her head, not understanding. Raphael sighed, jabbed thick fingers towards the skylight, and hissed, "Do ya remember when I took my swandive through the roof, April?"

Her eyes soared upward to the black, shimmering glass that was so pristinely unmarred. She swallowed hard, and forced a calm she did not feel.

"Yes, Raph. I remember." She kept her tone mild and steady, as Raphael's eyes scraped the indifferent glass with an expression she can't understand.

"They knocked me out, April! Doncha get it? A head wound!"

He rapped his fingers so hard against his skull that she winced. She forced herself to nod, though she didn't understand, at all.

"Why the hell did Mikey die from it, and not me, April? How the hell is that fair?" His voice is soft, and she is grateful to see him turn away, sparing her the ordeal of answering.

Suddenly, they both jerked when her cell phone vibrates to life. Raphael's gaze turns scrutinizing as she stares at the number. It's the number to the lair. She picks it up before he can stop her, and twists away from his demanding hand for the phone.

"Miss O'Neil?" Splinter's voice is haggard, as she answered, "Yeah, Splinter, it's April."

A pause, and then the ravaged voice continued. "Miss O'Neil, I am sorry to disturb you at such a late hour."

He pauses again, clearly at a loss of how to continue. April thought it more merciful to tell him that she knows that one of his sons is dead, and the other one is falling apart. It had to be easier than listening to the rat struggling to put the horror into words.

"Splinter, Raphael is here at my apartment." Raphael sent her a glare that could fry eggs, as she met him with a glare of her own. She cupped the phone, to prevent Splinter from hearing her hiss at him.

"He has the right to know that you're alright, Raph." His glare falters, as he lowers his head.

"I ain't alright, April."

Her lips twisted in empathy. "I know, Raph."

She turned back to conversing with Splinter. "-my son alright, Miss O'Neil?" She caught the last fragment of his question, and she hesitated before answering.

"Raphael's alright, Splinter. And if he doesn't go back to the lair, tonight, he'll stay at the apartment with me. Is that okay?" She swallowed back the sobbing that would do nobody any good.

"Miss O'Neil..."

A sigh of resignation, and sadness. "If Raphael feels that it is best to stay at your apartment for the night, that is what he should do. Thank you, Miss O'Neil, for your understanding."

He heard her anguished gulp of air before she timidly ventured, "Splinter?"

"Yes, Miss O'Neil?" The rat is puzzled, but polite, and clearly not wanting to tell her about poor Mikey until he's ready.

"Splinter, Raphael told me about Mikey. Is it true?"

"Yes, Miss O'Neil. It is true. My son…."

The shuddering breath burbled into agony that Splinter was not able to conceal.

"My son, Michelangelo is dead."

Raphael jerks as sharply as if he's been hit, even if he can't hear it. April balled her fist over the phone to keep Splinter from hearing her start to cry. The rat sighed into the phone, patiently. Even his grief is not enough to squelch his reserved kindness.

"Miss O'Neil, there is much that must be done, but it will all wait until tomorrow, when we have all had some rest. I cannot face any more at this time, and neither can my remaining sons."

"Splinter, I'm so sorry about Mikey." She was crying then. She heard Raphael 's heavy footsteps beside her, as he squinted at her. He gently took the phone from her slack fingers.

"Master Splinter?"

"My son?" Splinter's voice is oddly timid when addressing his most volital son, clearly not wanting to drive Raphael away any more.

Raphael bit his lip, and finally answered. "Master Splinter, I can't go back there. Not tonight. I'm sorry."

Splinter's voice was gentle with understanding, as he quietly spoke. "I understand,Raphael. Please, rest tonight, if you can, and return to the lair tomorrow with Miss O'Neil. We will handle tomorrow's trouble tomorrow. I love you, my son. As do we all."

"I'll be back in the lair tomorrow, Master Splinter, I promise. Thanks for understanding me. I love ya."

Raph hung up, and set the cell carefully on the table. April was still sniffling in the attempt to stop crying, and he exhaled slowly,scraped raw and empty. He said nothing, but just walked the few feet to infinite care, Raphael lowers himself to the couch, and slides his thick arm beneath her narrow shoulders, and leaves it there. She looked at him, her eyes shimmering with understanding.

Normally, they wouldn't touch. But, normally,April wouldn't be mourning the loss of a dear, dear friend, and Raphael wouldn't be saying good bye to his brother. Grief broke down the barriers and artifcial distance in ways that normal life never would. Normally, Raphael hates being touched, but if it gives comfort to April, he can stand it for a night. Normally, April wouldn't be fractured and weeping like this, but if it comforts Raph because he's doing _something..._she'll put up with it.

They were both too exhausted to think, or do anything besides slump against each other in a crumpled heap of shared grief and rare solidarity.

Raphalel allows her to slump against his plaston, and the second time of the night, Raphael finds himself holding another family member together in his frail, uncertain arms. He's careful to keep the arm draped over her shoulder protective, but not heavy. He doesn't want to bruise her any more than his problems already has.

"Go to sleep, April. There's not a damn thing that either one of us can do right now but get some rest." Raph's voice was gruff, but soft, as he shifted to make her a bit more comfortable. Her hand grabbed his slack one, and tightened over it in promise.

"Raph, we're all going to get through this. Together, okay?" He bit back the retort that she hadn't lost a family member in shame. Hell, if she wasn't family after putting up with all of his crap for this long, he was a heartless bastard on top of everything else.

"Together. Yeah, I get ya, April." He mutters the soft agreement and he feels her drift away. Before he closes his eyes, he drapes the blanket it over her with his free arm, and takes care not to disturb her. He didn't have the words to thank her for understanding, for being there, and not forcing him to talk, or adjust or do anything but what he needed to get through this new hell one moment at a time.

Together seemed a heck of a lot better than facing this stuff alone.


	4. Of Friends And Memories

April woke from her awkward sprawl on the couch, alarmed at the unfamiliarity of not being in her bed. Squinting at the wan morning sunlight through the blinds, she untangled herself from the wad of blanket that had been tucked over her with care. She scowled when she realized that Raphael had left her after all. Her glare softened when she saw the pillow he had arranged in place of his shoulder. Carefully draping her robe over her pajamas, she uncertainly called Raphael's name.

No answer.

The silence in the apartment was so much louder than before. Worried, she shoved her feet into her slippers and rose to look for him, automatically palming the cell phone. She winced at the torture of last night's aftermath, the tears blurring the room when she thought of Mikey again. It had been only three days since he had stood in her small kitchen. Remnants of their last conversation flickered through her mind like ghosts as she exhaled a shaking breath. She didn't know it was their last time together. None of them could have possibly known that. And yet…

"_Hey, April…can we talk?"_

_April looked up in surprise at the sudden,odd question. Dubiously, she shrugged. "Sure, Mike. What's on your mind?"_

"_Have you ever seen anybody do this before?"_

_Mikey asked the question around the slice of pizza he was gnawing on. April cocked an eyebrow to see the turtle strangely poised on the stool he had balanced with only one of its three feet still on the floor. The thin line of disbelief grew sharper between her eyebrows as she gestured towards him._

"_How in the world do you balance like that, Mike?" He gave her a wide grin, as he tossed the remains of his pizza slice high, tilted his mouth back, and caught it with one smug gulp. She flinched as the stool twisted beneath him, and toppled. April watched in disbelief as Mikey leapt off the stool as it fell, doing a backflip and landing beside her. Sheepishly, he picked up the stool, and righted it with an apologetic shrug. "Sorry…I hope I didn't damage it."_

_April gave him a thin, tolerant smile. "That was some trick, Mikey. Has Splinter got you doing flips as part of your routine now?"_

_He hitched his shoulders again, palms wide. "Naw….I just thought it would be fun to try here."_

_She pursed her lips. "Next time, take your flips outside, or back to your dojo, okay? I don't want any more broken dishes."_

_He scowled at that, a minute flicker before he brightened again. "I used the pizza money to replace those, you know. Surely it's even now?" He ducked his head, eyes rising in the unspoken look of a whipped puppy. She sighed, tolerantly. "Yes, Mike. You know it's forgiven."_

_He gave her that radiating smile. "Thanks!" Coming from anybody else, it would have sounded contrived, or sarcastic._

"_Did you have something on your mind, Mike?"_

_Uneasily, he nodded, as he slid back onto the stool, all frivolity vanishing. The merry mouth thinned out to a grim, uncertain line, as he sighed again, and propped his chin in one hand._

_Concerned, April took her perch on the other side of the counter, where they could face each other. She watched as the troubled, serious look flickered over his face, and marred the bright smile with its sudden gravity._

"_Actually, April, I was sort of wondering if you could do something for me." Mikey's voice was odd, heavy and measured, and even tense._

_April frowned at him, worried now. "Mikey?"_

"_I know it's gonna sound weird, April, but lately, I've been thinking about things, and well…"_

_His shoulders hitched as his voice trailed off. April scowled when the long silence left her curiosity unsated._

"_What things have you been thinking about, Mikey?"_

_His eyes met hers, searing as a burn, in their intensity. He lightly touched her hand, as if trying to drive the meaning of his words deeper. "April, I've been thinking about how life is like a pizza."_

_Her eyebrows shot skyward, and disappeared into her red bangs. "A pizza?" She asked, dubiously._

_Mikey nodded, with no laughter at the absurd remark. April halted her chuckles when she realized that in his own odd way, Mikey was being serious with the analogy._

"_Yeah….it only lasts a little while, especially around __**us.**__" Mikey gestured towards himself, his eyes darkening with some unexplained sadness. It was a simple remark, but April felt as if she had been punched in the gut. It hurt that much to hear Mikey even contemplating something so immense._

"_Mikey….why are you even thinking like this?"_

_His features contorted in agony that he managed to squelch with a forced, bright smile, as he attempted to dazzle April's distress away with another antic._

"_Actually, I'm just really, really hungry. You got any slices left over?" He pulled his bottom lip into an exaggerated pout when April shook her head. He drew a measured breath, carefully gauging her reaction, and gently easing her back into the more comfortable conversation. He was both saddened and gratified to see that it was working. He was a bit disappointed that he couldn't share some of his troubling thoughts with a friend. So many times, he felt the groundswell of the deeper things just below the surface, writhing like something trapped and clawing to get out. Donny sometimes listened, and when he did, was often shocked at the perception and the empathy that Mikey had towards all of them. Though their baby brother left it unspoken, he had an uncanny knack for understanding them. Whenever one of his brothers was distressed, he would charm out their smiles, however begrudgingly won, regardless of the cost of holding so much in. In a way, his laughter was a much armor and protection as Don's intellect, or Raph's anger. And he poured out all that he had of it to bring a bit of light into the dark sewers, a shaft of hope against the encroaching despair. He was regarded as naïve, and treated as an innocent, protected, and babied, and lavished on. He bore it with unending patience, accepted the shackles and the limits of being the youngest, because he knew they needed him to be. Raph needed somebody to protect so that he could keep the scraps of his morality intact. Donny needed his loving tolerance and listening when he got lost in his intellectual angst. And Leo needed somebody to give him reassurance that somebody trusted him with his life. Mikey was the only one who never quibbled with his oldest brother about orders, though he might fuss about extra training once in a while._

_He left those thoughts unspoken, as April just stared at him, narrowed eyed, and wary. "Mikey, are you sure that everything's alright?"_

_He hitched his shoulders, and carefully sat the envelope on the table between them. "I know that this will be a weird request, April, but could you do me a favor? Please?" He conjured up the wounded puppy look again, as she sighed, relenting._

"_It depends on the favor, but what is it?" He threw back his hands in surrender. "No biggie, I promise. Just in case something happens to me…..would you give the guys this?"_

_He tapped the envelope. She frowned, scared now. "Why? Mikey, are you-"_

_He stopped the flood of her terrified questions with a quirk of his lips, and a gentle arm over her shoulders in reassurance._

"_April, I'm __**fine.**__ Believe me, Donny would know in a heartbeat if I wasn't. And don't worry, I'm not planning anything stupid. It's just in case something happens to me…not that anything ever would."_

_She sighed, both touched and a bit frightened at the amount of trust he just placed in her. Nodding, she took the envelope, and saw that it wasn't sealed. Maybe Mikey didn't care, but she would consider it nothing less than a violation to read it now._

"_I'll keep it safe, Mikey, but only if you promise me that you'll never, ever do anything that would make this even necessary."_

_The hand on her shoulder squeezed her in gratitude, as he gave her his brightest smile. "I promise that __**I **__won't. Can't really vouch for the rest of the world, though."_

_She was surprised at the sudden burn of tears that she had to blink away. "I hope so, too, Mikey. I really hope so."_

_He looked at her, opened his mouth to apologize for making her cry, and shut it when he realized it would just embarrass the hell out of her. It was impulsive. He suddenly leaped skyward, gleefully banged a nunchuck against the ceiling, and rebounded with a flourishing bow, and a smirk. When he heard her laughter, he breathed a sigh of relief in knowing he had done something to make somebody a bit happy. It was always time well-spent, regardless of how frivolous the rest of his brothers viewed it._

It was only in looking back that April really saw how precious that time truly was. She had forgotten about the envelope, thinking that it was another impulsive thing that Mikey did on a whim. She had no idea what was written in the letter. She had never opened it. Now that it was tragically necessary, she decided to give it to the Turtles whenever they made arrangements for whatever they were going to do about their dead brother. She shuddered at the thought, dug through the drawer and left it sitting on the table beside the couch.

She looked, worriedly around the empty apartment, and made her way slowly to the kitchen, hoping to find Raphael there. To her surprise, Raphael was scowling over the rancid pot of coffee he had attempted to make, the foul smell reeking in the small kitchen. He lurched in surprise when she entered, and sheepishly, he poured the burning liquid down the drain with a shrug.

"Thought I'd try to make us a pot before we hit the road. Master Splinter called. He wanted us at the lair in an hour."

He did not meet her eyes as he snarled at the coffee pot and scrubbed it until it was in danger of shattering. April backed away, before hesitantly asking, "Do you want me to come?" Raphael did not answer for a long moment, as he deliberately set the pot down in the sink. Eyes narrowing, he finally faced her.

"Why the hell wouldn't you?" His voice was taunt as a noose, and eerily quiet, as April only breathed.

"Ya lost somebody too, didn't cha?" Raphael ground out, as April bit her lip, eyes flooding.

"Raph…." It was almost pleading, and Raphael had the grace enough to look contrite. After all, she did allow him a night of peace and boo-hooing without censure. His face contorted into the ravaged lines that he could barely force into the angered, grief-ridden snarl.

"Damn it-" He laid a palm against the counter, and April saw his knuckles turn white from the harsh grip. He shut his eyes, shuddering, before he finally forced out the words.

"Sorry…I just…" The apology was negated by April shaking her head, with a sad look.

She met his eyes with soft understanding. "Raph, you're doing the best you can with this, so you don't need to apologize any more. Why don't we get ready to leave?"


	5. Brother's Keeper

The silence that followed Raphael's footfalls was fragmented with the thunderous crash of the door as Raphael hurled it shut. It rippled through the air, sudden as a gunshot blast, making them all recoil. Leo was the first to break the long quiet with a noise that sounded like a strangled whimper, as he stared in tears at the empty hall where Raph had been. Trembling, he turned towards Splinter, and Donnatello, with a disbelieving glance at Mikey. He clapped a hand over his shaking jaw, as the tears slowly leaked from his clenched eyes.

Leo fragmented into the quiet sobbing that he tried to hide with the fists stuffed to his quivering jaw. Shaking his head with a despairing sigh, Donny very gently lay a guiding hand over Leo's shoulder. Donny only intended to steer Leo's ravaged gaze away from Mikey's corpse.

Leo tensed underneath his fingers, inhaled a sudden breath and turned to him, stricken.

"Don, how could you _say_ that to Raphael? "

The question was more bewildered awe than accusation, and Leo stared, wide-eyed and distant from all but Mikey's remains.

Helplessly, Donny hitched his shoulders with a soft sigh.

"I didn't mean it, Leo. It was thoughtless and cruel, and I'm sorry that I've made this harder on everybody."

Leo just shook his head, and templed his helpless hands over his mouth, as his face contorted. Donny stiffened in surprise at the sudden, painful embrace that crushed him against Leo's plastron.  
"I've already lost one brother, Don, and it hurts so damn much. It will break me completely if I lose another one."

The brutal words were muffled when Leo buried his face in Don's shoulder. Awkwardly, Donny lay a reassuring hand over Leo's shoulder, and gently pried Leo away,until they were facing each other inches apart. In tears, he only shook his head.

"Leo, I know that this hurts. This is the hardest thing that any of us have faced, and we're not going to get through this alone. I'll do what I can to make things right with Raph, but you're going to have to be strong for _me_, alright?"

It was meant to lend strength, to give Leo something tangible to hold onto. Responsibility, and duty had always been his tethers. It failed miserably, as Leo wilted even more.

"I'm sorry….._damn it, I'm sorry!_" Leo choked the words out, as he helplessly scrubbed at his eyes. He turned to Splinter, and Don, backing away and shaking his head, arms flung out, pleading.

"I'm falling apart, right when you need me the most. I've done nothing but sob and make excuses since Mike-" The words choked off, as Leo buried a fist against his forehead in frustrated anguish.

"Sensai, Donny, forgive me." He bowed his head, clenched his eyes shut, as Splinter only hobbled over to him, and ran soothing fingers over his bent shoulders.

"Leonardo, my son, you have always been far too quick to assume responsibility for things in which you have no control. It is one thing to wish to protect your brothers. It is another to feel guilty for grief."

Leo nodded in tears, and returned Splinter's embrace. Donny watched them, troubled, and silent. Less than a day ago, the four of the Turtles had been eating a pizza, and arguing about which movie they wanted to watch. Less than a day ago, Mikey had been alive and laughing across the table, the same as they had a thousand other times. Raphael had been in an oddly good mood, not arguing with Leo, not brooding like a storm cloud, but actually smiling. Leo had watched them all with quiet amusement, and Donny had perched himself by his laptop, happily clacking away.

Now, Leo seemed shattered, perhaps beyond repair. He had never lost that savage, wounded look, and he was steadily decaying under the grief. Leo had always been their strength, their path, and their reassurance that they could get through anything, together. Now, he seemed more like a bewildered, lost child, clinging to Splinter like he was drowning. Donny felt the ripple of fear,and grit his teeth against it. If Leo could be brought down like _this_, what hope did any of them have in getting through?

Donny did not weep, as he gently pulled the sheet over Mikey's face, tried not to cringe at the finality of it all. He shut his eyes, and drew a long mind already fragmenting the grief into manageable components of things that needed to be done, and practical matters that needed to be addressed.

"Donnatello, you have made me proud for being strength for your brothers in this time of sorrow. Your words were spoken in haste, and grief, with no intention of wounding Raphael. However, you have caused him great pain, my son." Splinter whispered.

A weary sigh, as Donny lowered his head. "I know, Master Splinter, and I'll apologize. I just hope that Raphael can forgive me."

The rat gave him a tired smile. "Raphael will forgive you, in time, Donnatello. But, you must give him room to grieve. Sorrow makes harsh words much easier to speak, and much harder to forget. "

The words lingered, coiled in his gut with the strangling guilt of what he could never take back or undo now. They all knew that Raphael had been through hell, brought down at his lowest point, and lived in unspoken terror of being powerless again. That horrific assault had broken something inside Raphael that had never healed, only remained hidden. Raphael had flinched, stared at him, the burn of tears and shock shimmering before he started quaking and bolted, even as Donny was ready to fall on his knees and beg forgiveness. He didn't mean it. He knew how savage the wound still was, he never,never intended to inflict it again. And now, he was left with the death of one brother, and possibly the irrevocable loss of the other.

Mikey…when he had breathed his last, when the heart stopped its quivering, throbbing lurch, and Mikey had slumped in finality after the tortured convulsion, was laying still, and now growing cold. Leo had held his limp hands until all the warmth had faded, while Splinter had only gripped his weeping son close in the silence.

The room blurred with his tears, as Donny attempted to scrub the throbbing ache from his temples. He had done everything, and it had not been enough. Hell, it hadn't made any difference. He writhed with the effort of holding back the wail that wanted to tear from his throat. He shut his eyes, breathed deep, exhaled, detached. It was bearable if he retreated to mechanical intellect, broke the hellish night into manageable tasks that he could perform, ignored the horror and the agony in exchange for torpor. Swallowing hard, he rose to face the corpse of his brother. Levelly, he stared at the remains with indifference that was necessary for him to stay sane. Without looking at Leo, without looking at Splinter, he apologetically murmured with the uncertain twitch of his shoulders, "I'll get our things packed."

He heard the gentle, patient sigh behind him, and felt Splinter's paw fall over his shoulder. "My son, you spoke out of thoughtless haste, not intentional cruelty. In time, Raphael will see this." Donny did not weep, as he gently pulled the sheet over Mikey's face, tried not to cringe at the finality of it all. He shut his eyes, and drew a long breath.

Leo was shattered, Raphael was gone, and Mikey was dead. Donny stared around the lair, felt the emptiness. Resolve solidified into hardened strength, as he rose. He had already lost one brother. He sure as hell wasn't going to lose any more. He would haul Leo away from drowning in the tortured pools of regret. He would bring Raph back to the lair, maybe kicking and screaming, maybe sporting a broken bone, or worse. It had fallen on him to keep them all together, since Mikey was no longer there.

He had to keep them together, and he had to get them through this. For Mikey. Decision made, Donny felt a vague sense of comfort that he had, at last, a direction.

"My sons, tomorrow's grief will be eased by sleep tonight. We must get some rest. "

Leo almost timidly spoke up, "Donny, Master Splinter, I want to sleep here tonight. Please."

Master Splinter raised an eyebrow at the request. After a moment's consideration, he nodded, solemnly. "I will join you here, my son. This is not a time for any of us to be alone."

Donny was already on his way out of the room, tossing over his shoulder, "We can't just sleep on the bare floor. I'll go get enough bedding to keep us comfortable."

Leo watched him leave, and then whispered to Splinter. "What about Raphael, Master?"

"I have spoken to him, Leonardo. Miss O'Neal called to inform me that Raphael would be spending the night at her apartment. They will be joining us in the morning."


	6. The Last Days of Mikey, Part One

Mikey had always thought that the end of his life would be pleasantly delayed to some distant, vague point. He had imagined his death being a benign transition of simply falling asleep, and exchanging his breath for eternity. It had been hard as hell to decide which would be worse, or better-being the last one to leave, and have his family waiting for him, or being the first and forcing his family to endure him being gone. It had always been his most paralysing fear-being severed from his loved ones. Raphael relished the brutality and the savage justice of vengence. Leonardo had accepted the chances with a stoic mask and attempted to lessen the farewells by always throwing himself between death and his brothers. Donny dodged the whole thing by inventions, and calculations and beefing up on as much medical knowledge as he could for their injuries.

When Mikey had asked Splinter about death, Splinter only looked at him, gently, and answered, "Death is but a passage, my son, not a severing of existance. The flesh that tethers us to this world is temporal, but the soul lives on." Mikey found that vague and soothing, but not particularly helpful. He wasn't sure exactly how he defined the soul, but he found the idea of all a person, or in his case, a turtle, could be swallowed up into oblivion.

Mikey had lit enough of the candles to make the lair glow gold. The flickers of merry little flames was oddly soothing to his troubled thoughts, held back the darkness of the sewer for the last few hours until he could sleep. He lay sprawled on the sofa, one leg dangling off its edge, the television off, his electronic distractions of games and television ignored.

He drew in a shaking breath, and felt the odd blaze of tears blur the world. Shuddering, he blinked them back, tensing as he waited for the tell-tale rumble of Raph, the tap of Splinter's cane. He hated when they caught him crying. Leo's face would contort as if stabbed, Donny would go into fits trying to soothe his baby brother,and even Raph was stripped raw of his anger when Mikey cried.

So, Mikey never did, until he was alone, and felt safe enough to weep. His tears hurt his family in ways that nothing else he did ever could. He let his mouth reflexively curled into a grin, twist against his teeth, as he clutched his plastron.  
The sob rippled through him, and he felt the realization coming down on his bent neck with the finality of the executioner's ax.

He was going to die. The thoughts of his own ending, had been nothing but a dull, troubling ache, easily ignored, in the bright distraction of his jokes and false bravado. When he was with his brothers, he had never allowed the anguish to show. He kept it inward, guarding what plagued him like a precious jewel.

His brothers never knew that the smile had withered into a twisted reflex that he donned for their benefit. They never knew that when the laughter burbled , it felt the same as a shriek of agonized realization. Even the jokes felt like trapped animals that he had to liberate in the savage attempt to pretend that all was well. It was a bitter realization that he was so good at acting, he no longer knew who he was. But, his brothers were mercifully oblivious. And, if these were the last days he had with them, he owed them some good memories, some absolution...something worth leaving.

It was so damn sad, and so very soon. The terrible truth had lanced like a shard through his very soul, the finality of it deeper than any merciful denial, or ability to dismiss it as dark thoughts. Awareness had hardened into something irrevokable, and he did not know how he knew, nor question it. It was final, and it would be soon. Moments kept dripping like unwelcome blood from an unhealed wound. He knew his brothers feared loss. He just never knew how much until the strange night that Raphael came stumbling down the hall towards his bedroom, in tears, and reeking of a scared glance towards Leo and Splinter's door, Mikey hastily grabbed Raphael, and hauled him into his bedroom. Raphael was shaking, as Mikey silently shoved him onto the mattress, patiently lay out the trash can in case of stomache upheaval. Raphael kept up the spew of apology, garbled by sobbing. Mikey gently shushed him, as he tucked the tattered red quilt around him, and just looked on as his hothead brother curled inward. He had never, never seen Raphael in such a state, and he knew that there was more than just intoxication that was making him weep like he had lost everything. In Raphael's rare moments of verbalized introspection, he had suddenly embraced Mikey in tears,and blurted out, "I'll be the first one to go, Mikey. I'm the hothead, the idiot of the group. Ya...ya need to keep yourself safe, alright?"

Mikey had never seen Raphael so fractured. He only gripped Raphael's shaking frame, held his huge brother together, and promised that he would keep himself safe, as much as he could. Raphael had stuttered out in the choked lurch, as he shoved his brother gently, to look at him, "It's gotta be me, who goes first,Mikey. If anything happened to Leo, or Don, or you, I-"

Raphael said nothing more, just crushed Mikey against him, and clung to him as if he were drowning. Mikey sat with him, in the dark quiet, one hand over the trembling shoulder. Raphael's sob eventually faded into the deep snoring. Mikey waited until he knew that Raph was asleep before he yanked the blankets over him, and stumbled bleerily to his own the morning, hopefully the hangover would offer enough of a distraction that the horrible night would fade from memory.

Two days later, when Raphael was walled in his room, and brooding as a storm cloud, Mikey had knocked on his door, carrying two plates of pizza. Raphael had barked out that he wanted to be left the hell alone. Mikey ignored the snarl, as he opened the door, sidestepped the hurled pillow and held out the pizza as a peace offering. Raphael scowled, eyes narrowing from his perch on his bed. He was feeling more pissy and irritable than usual, and just wanted to be left alone.  
Sighing, Raphael waved a hand towards the battered chair in the corner, as he did a backflip and landed on his feet.

Eyeing Mikey warily, he took a piece of pizza, as Mikey moved the chair and slid into it. Sighing, Raphael crossed his arms, and stared down at his sibling, clearly puzzled and ill at ease.

"Somethin' on ya mind, Mikey?"

"Raph, can I ask you a question?"

"Ya just did, bro."

"Yeah, I did, didn't I?" There was a long moment of hesitation, before Mikey met Raph's eyes. "Raph, when you came home drunk a few days ago..."

Raphael's eyes narrowed as he stiffened, waiting.

"You said that you would be the first one of us to ...how do you know that it's going to be you?"

Raphael's eyes shot open at the question, and the pizza fell onto the plate. Raphael blinked, stricken, before he hitched his shoulders, strangely subdued.

"I don't know that, Mike. Who the hell could?" Raphael's face contorted and he snarled a few seconds later, "But damned if I let it be any of you!"

He drew a shaking breath, and glared at Mikey, suddenly pissed. "Why the hell you asking me this, anyway? Ya know something that I don't?"

Mikey swallowed hard, forced the smile from lips that seemed too heavy for his face. The false glee in his voice felt choked. "Of course not, Raph. I was just asking, that's all."

Raphael squinted at him, clearly unconvinced, but also uncertain of pursuing the odd conversation.

"Raph, what do you think happens when we die? Do we just...end?"

Raphael's forehead crinkled, before he closed his eyes with a soft, bitter sigh. "Mikey...why-"His voice trailed off into silence once more, as he shrugged, helpless.

"Now ya know why I drink, little brother. Ya want one?" He asked as he fished out a bottle from behind the pile of blankets on the floor. He wagged it towards Mikey, who eyed it, and shook his head.

Raphael shrugged at the refusal, as he pulled the cap off with his teeth and deftly flipped it into the trash can. "Suit yourself, little brother. But do me a favor, eh? Don't tell Leo. I don't need Fearless naggin' me."

Mikey shook his head with a bitter chuckle, as he rose to leave. "Don't worry, Raph...I won't tell Leo."

Raphael snorted in gratitude as he hoisted the bottled and tilted it. "Ya don't hafta leave, Mike. Stay a while if ya want." Raphael grinned behind the bottle, as he took a long, languid sip. Mikey smiled tolerantly and slid back down to sit.

"Why the big questions,bro? It ain't like you to be so damn...deep."

"Raphael, I'm not always an easy going goofball, any more than you're always the pissed off hothead." The odd finality in his voice made Raphael raise his eye ridges in surprise.

"Never thought of you as just being the goofball, Mikey. I know that you joke around and act like a damn kid to keep us even."

Raphael smirked, as Mike's jaw dropped in dismay. He took another sip. "Humph. And here you were, prob'ly thinkin' that none of us ever noticed that. I pay a hell of a lot more attention than ya know."

Raphael leaned back, finally losing that wary, guarded tension. Mikey could tell from the slight slur that he would soon be passing out, but until then, far more open to answering questions.

"Raph?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you think happens when we die?"

A snort of dismissal, and a bitter cackle. "We take a permanent dirt nap, or we become wormfood. What else ya think happens?"

"You don't think there's a heaven, or a hell? Nothing at all?"

Raphael cracked open one eye, glittering with some emotion that Mikey could not decipher.

"Plenty of hell down here. There's gotta be a heaven somewhere to make it right."

Mikey stared at him, in surprise. "You think there's a God, then?"

Raphael hoisted himself up by his elbows, and stuck a fist to his mouth to block the yawn. Eyes nearly sliding shut, his voice thick with sleep, Raphael finally answered, "'s definitely a devil, so there hasta be a God."

And with that, Raphael lowered his head, curled on his side,and started snoring. Mikey shook his head as he left Raphael to sleep it off.


	7. Gathering the Wounded

This has to be what hell feels like.

The thought made Donny halt abruptly, the sheet sliding from his suddenly slack fingers. It was a surreal moment that would have been torture were he still not so numb. His tears remained safely locked up in his frozen thoughts. He could not answer the question of what would happen when it became real. His body felt mechanical as he went through the instinctive motions of checking for pulse, and breath. Maybe it was a last desperate attempt to somehow accept that Mikey was dead.

Donny recoiled at how cold Mikey had become during the night. Biting back tears, Donny went through the more agonizing task of hiding the damage to the corpse so his brothers would at least have kinder memories than Donny would.

As hellish as it was for the rest, they didn't see Mikey's tortured spasms. They were spared from holding Mikey to the table, from sliding fingers through the clamped jaws so Mikey could breathe, from seeing bone glimmering through skull, and knowing how it would end.

Donny had given his brothers time to accept what he had already known seconds after seeing Mikey fall.

Donny's hands were shaking so hard, he could barely retie Mikey's bandana over his brother's face. Gently, he lay the eyeholes over the shut lids, carefully tilted the head to the side, and cringed at the wilted flop of Mikey's neck. Donny forced his fingers to loop the tails into the knot directly over the vicious wound. Donny had sewn it shut, keeping the sitches small, and even. The job was so hellishly easy, now that Mikey didn't whine or pull away from the pain. It was a pitiful attempt to hide it, but it made it a bit less harrowing to not have to stare at what killed his paused, before grabbing Mikey's favorite throw pillow, and gently tucked it under his head.

Yes, better to pretend that he was merely tucking his baby brother in, rather than dressing his corpse.

The bruises to his joints were a bit easier to conceal when Donny slid the pads back into place, and discretely tucked Mikey's favorite vivid orange blanket around him. It added a veneer of normalcy, however ghoulish.

Donny allowed the thought to slide into justification. He wasn't handling his brother, no. It was nothing more than the jar that held the spirit, the now broken vessel that tethered his brother to their lives, and propelled him forward until he left the earth.

Somehow those vaguely cute terms didn't convey the rage that made him tremble when he saw his baby brother die. A cruel blow to the back of the skull, and he crumbled. A few hours of hitching breath, those bone-deep seizures that flung Mikey's flesh into those twitching, sickening knots for a few seconds of eternity. Donny swallowed back the urge to vomit. The thing that animated the flaccid corpse was also the cause of Mikey's death.

A few hours of lingering, choking breath, seizures. A few hours of pleading helplessness. Donny stared numbly at the skull fracture, saw the gleam of bone through the skin, and wondered how in the heck he was supposed to tell them all that Mikey was going to die.

And when he saw their twisted faces, he couldn't.

How in the hell could he?

He put a palm to his sweated forehead, squeezd his fingers against his eyes, as the thoughts continued like a battering ram.

He had waited until the very final moment,that was true, and his intentions had been the best they could have been in the hellish situation. He had examined the head wound and the vitals for the hundredth time in an hour. He had felt Mike's pulse race, and plummet erratically. The unsteady breathing lurched into choking and then nothing when his body folded up and nearly toppled from the stretcher. There was only him and Splinter to anchor Mikey down, as he convulsed, his very bones twisting to get out of his skin. As suddenly as the seizure came, it left. Don felt the coiled, clenched body go slack as cloth. Mikey lay so still beneath their hands, as Splinter finally breathed, and lay a shaking paw over Mikey's skull.

As if reacting to the touch, there was the sharp, broken wheeze that burbled up, as Mikey nearly folded in half two more times, and then, just stopped. His teeth had been bared like an animal in a snare, the drool weeping from the snarl. Now, Mikey only looked at peace. As if he had just drifted off and simply didn't want to be bothered with the waking up.

Donny drew a sharp breath, as he caressed the unmarred forehead. Donny yanked his hand away from the icy flesh.  
His breath only came only came when the strain finally collapsed his shaking limits, and hit him like a sledge hammer.

He stared, transfixed, the seconds bleeding into infinity. The grey shards of morning light wafted over the felt like he was being strangled, the dull panic rising, as he stepped away, shaking. It was only nerves, traumatized past their limit. The merciful numbness that allowed him to function fractured. Sickened, Donny turned away, and heaved into the trash can. He wretched again, and again, until he was sweating and shaking. Rising again, Donny wiped his mouth, stared bleerily at the table with Mikey's body.

Donny clapped a fist over his mouth, spun on his heel, and bolted towards the kitchen. Heedlessly, he flung himself over the sink, and continued the agonizing dry heaves, as the breath choked and the tears clogged, but neither one would come up.

He nearly squealed when he heard Leo's startled cry. His big brother took no time in lowering Donny into the chair, before his shaking legs gave out. Donny felt Leo's appraising, wary gaze at the back of his bowed neck, as he hastily sat down a glass of water, before seating himself close to Donny.

"Drink that, and take some deep breaths. It will help." Leo said softly, waiting expectedly. Donny glanced up at him, took the water, and swallowed it, shaking.

Leo sighed gently, as he continued, "You didn't sleep at all, did you?"

Donny set the glass down, and stared at it, shaking his head. Leo only nodded in acceptance, apparently not wanting to lecture about the need of proper rest.

"We have a long drive ahead. Maybe you can get some sleep on the way." It was a suggestion bordering on an order, and for some reason, Donny found it unbearably irritating and welcome at the same time.

"I called Casey. He's bringing April and Raph here with the van." Donny said quietly.

"And I've already packed all that we need. Master Splinter is up,too, so all we really have to do is wait."

"Leo, how do I face Raph? How in the heck do I take back what I said to him?"

Leo did not answer for a moment, as he popped toast into the toaster, buttered the bread, slathered on the peanut butter, and set the plate down in front of Donny, waiting for his brother to eat.

Donny gave the toast a withering glance, but picked up a slice, and nibbled at it.

Leo gently pat his shoulder, and answered, softly, "You can't. You can't take it back, and it would only anger Raphael if you tried. It's going to be hard for all of us, learning how to live through this, and it's going to be hard for a long, long time."

Leo just sighed, nearly in tears. "Give Raph some time and let him have his space. And, Don? Make sure that you cut yourself some slack, too. We're all stumbling in the dark, now."

Leo gave his shoulder one more squeeze, and rose. "Finish your breakfast, Don. I'll wait for Raph." He lingered at the doorway, uncertainly before he continued.

"Donny, you did everything you could. You gave us time to say good-bye to Mikey, and you made sure he spent his last hours on earth surrounded by his family. Thank you for that."

Donny swallowed thickly, as Leo embraced him, and let him weep.

Meanwhile, at April's apartment...

"Raph, do you want to call Casey?" April asked hesitantly,as she set her suitcase down, louder than she intended.

Raphael flinched at the unexpected noise, nearly toppling the chair.

"Wha..Whatja say, April?" He blinked up at her, trying to control the sudden hitch of his breathing.

"Sorry, big guy. I didn't mean to startle you." Normally, her nickname would have made him smirk.

Raphael's lips quirked in the miserable attempt, and ended with the upward jerk of his resumed his wilted slump in the chair, not meeting her eyes.

She sighed from behind his bent shell with concern. He heard the clink of the plate on the counter as she popped bread into her toaster.

"Want some toast, or anything?"

Raphael just shook his head. "No, thanks. I ain't hungry."

"Raph, I know that it's hard, but eating something might-"

"No, it won't, April. If I ate anything, it'd just come back up."

His lip curled at the topic of his stomach upheaval, and he resumed his study of his hands, head bowing and eyes nearly sliding shut.

April finished buttering her toast, and mercifully left him to his thoughts.

Raphael couldn't help tensing when she slid invasively close into the chair a few feet away.

"Raph, I meant it when I said that you're not facing this alone."

Raphael heaved a breath, and shut his eyes. He swallowed so hard that he nearly choked. Awkwardly, he pat her wrist, and nodded.

"Yeah, April...I get . Call Casey, will ya?"

She lingered a few more moments, before she took the phone, and gave him a small, sad smile that he couldn't return.

Raphael heard nothing but muffled conversations, soft, and undecipherable, and then the barely restrained sob that she had been holding back. For a moment, he wondered if he was being more cruel in leaving her to cry, or for interrupting. Gritting his teeth, he sat back down, dully when he heard her footsteps.

She had smeared the wet from her eyes, lips trembling, as she set the cell phone back on the table.

"Casey's picking us up in the van, and then we're going to the Lair for your brothers. That okay?"

Raphael forced the brittle nod, numbly. Going back to the Lair sounded like returning to hell.

He actually heard the small lurch of sound as April swallowed hard, and turned to him. He just shook his head, and forced his lips to twist upward.

The sudden knock of fist against the door scared her, and nearly sent him into a fit. She ignored his trembling, tactfully, and was not suprised to see that he had vanished in the two seconds it took for her to stare at the eyehole.

She nearly wilted in relief when she saw Casey back away a few feet, and stare dubiously at the door, fist still raised to knock again.

"April?"

Casey staggered backwards in surprise when she launched herself into his arms, clinging to him like she was drowning. Casey only whispered her name, buried his face in her hair and gently crushed her to his chest.

"Sorry it took me so long, ya holdin' up?"

He tilted his head worriedly, as she peered into his eyes. "I'm okay." It sounded fragile and wrong. His hand lingered on her shoulder, and tightened with understanding.

He sounded troubled as he glanced around her apartment. "Uh...Don called right after I got off the phone with you. Sounded pretty worried about Raph. Real damn shame about Mike."

His eyes were full of agony as he shook his head, sounding lost. "A real damn shame."

He felt her nod, and he gently pushed her back to look at her. He grimaced when he saw her tears and awkwardly dabbed one away from her cheek.

"Babe, I'm here, okay?" She was trembling when she nodded, and lay her head on his shoulder again,taking refuge in feeling something solid and real. Casey tucked her head beneath his chin, and just breathed.

"Babe, I'm here. I ain't leaving you or them, okay?"

She blinked back her tears as she nodded. "Thanks, Casey."

"How's Raph?"

She hitched her shoulders wearily. "He's pretty torn up. They all are."

He nodded grimly. "Yeah...Donny said that Raph spent the night here? Things that bad?"

April nodded, warily, as Casey kissed her temple. "How 'bout I go talk to him, and you call Don back to let him know we're on our way?"

Another sigh, and a gentle nod. "Thanks, Case. You know what to say better than I do, anyway."

Uneasily, Casey let her go, and watched her glide away. It was something so mundane, but it still made his heart swell. He walked warily to the small sitting room where Raphael had taken refuge.

"Raph? Ya here?"

He heard the small shuffle from somewhere in the darkened room, as Raphael abruptly appeared from what seemed to be nowhere.

"Yeah. I'm here." It was raw and whispered. Raphael kept his head down, and his arms clenched to his side, breath tensed and hitching.

Casey had never seen him like that since the Foot nearly killed him.

"I'm sorry about Mikey." It was only four words, curt and broken and oddly eloquent. Raphael was spared the eviseration of answering that he was okay when he wasn't, or having to talk when he had no damn idea what to say. It was enough.

"Yeah." His eyes slid upward from the shadows, huge and dark with anguish. Casey swallowed hard.

"When we get back, we're gonna bust their skulls."

Raphael shuddered, hand involuntarily rising to clutch at the old scar at the side of his skull.

"Yeah...we...we'll do that." Casey never heard Raph's voice so soft and fractured, but also knew it would be embarrassing as hell for both to comment.

"You ready to go, then? I brought the van."

Another curt nod, and a grimace, as Raphael narrowed his eyes. "Ya mean that we're riding up to the farmhouse with my baby brother's body?"

The question was brittle, as Casey awkwardly spread his palms, trying to appease the sudden flare of anger.

"I guess that's the idea, unless you guys had other plans. I'm just goin' by what Donny and Splinter said, okay?"

"Casey, none of this is okay. How in the hell could it be?"

Another brittle sigh, as Raphael bowed his head again, and flung a hand vaguely towards the room. "Just...just give me a minute, okay?"

When Casey saw the tears, he only lingered long enough to toss over his shoulder, "Just come out to the living room when you're ready, bro. I'll...I'll go help April pack."

Raphael felt the tears trickling down his face, as he angrily snarled back the sob and slapped his palms against his scrubbing them away, he waited until he could choke them back long enough to walk to the living room, and get his head together.

He did not look at the humans as he strode past them, tossing over his shoulder, "Let's go already!"

April and Casey exchanged dubious glances, as he nodded, and leaned down to pick up their suitcases.

"Right behind ya, Raph."


	8. Torn

Both of the humans, after faltering attempts to talk to Raphael, had fallen into an uneasy silence. Casey shrugged to April, who only pursed her lips and shook her head in resignation. The sickly grey light of morning added no cheer, as Raphael waited in curt silence with April for Casey to bring the van from the parking deck. They were ignored by the indifferent crowds that rippled like a river around them, but Raphael was hunched and tense, his hands instinctively on his sais. April gently clapped a steadying hand on his shoulder, expecting him to shrug it off, or snarl. Raphael said nothing, but to April's shock, he clamped his own hand over hers, trembling. It was solid and tethering in this hell, and he was grateful for it. Mercifully, the van pulled up quickly, and he scrambled to the back. Raphael kept his agony clinched like a fist, and stayed quietly rigid as a hunted animal. He sat in the van's seat, peering out from the brim of his fedora with those huge, ravaged eye, his face only a sliver of dark green in its shadow.

"Raph?" Casey's voice was almost timid as Raphael just raised his eyes to stare at them both.

"I'm alright." Raph's voice was choked, as if the words were too heavy to speak. The humans exchanged troubled glances as Raphael's brittle gaze softened a bit.

"I owe ya both. Sorry for worryin' ya. Let's get movin', eh?"

April forced herself to tactfully ignore his trembling, the way he folded himself inward as if to hide. Resolutely, she tore her gaze to the front of the van, and studied indifferently the writhing of traffic. Casey reached for her wrist, let his grip linger over her hand with a sad smirk.

"Raph's gonna be alright, babe. We all will be." She gave him a mirthless, forced smile. Nobody else spoke for the rest of the short trip.

Raphael squinted at the flecks of sunlight that spilled over the seat. He found himself numbly staring numbly at the floor, flanked by Casey's bag, April's suitcase, and the laundry basket full of bedding.

The back of the van felt like a tomb, and Raphael cringed at remembering the helpless sprawl into oblivion from the Foot assault on him. He didn't remember any of that tortured path, other than Leo had kept a vigil, and all of them were so damn scared that they would lose him...

Suddenly, the world blurred, and he was hurting like hell. He ignored the embarrassing waterworks as he curled down, latched hands over his knees, and choked back the boulder that was lodged in his throat.

It was such a tedious, useless detail to be fussing over, but Donnatello found both solace and distraction in the specifics on how to transport their brother's corpse. Leo, Splinter, and Donny, scaped raw from shot nerves, lack of sleep, and wounded realization, had kept their lonely, pointless vigil through the longest night of their lives.

In the end, it would be a simple matter of hoisting their dead brother through a manhole cover, laying him down in the van, and driving him away to be buried. So simple, and so sickening.

Now, Donny found himself staring at the white sheets, idiotically pondering their color. Would Mikey want the white, or would he want his garishly colored sheets? How in the hell was he to know?

It was idiotic, fussing about sheets and ignoring the dead body that lay in front of him. Donny sighed, scrubbed away the dull ache from his temples, and stared down at Mikey. Mikey lay in repose where they had left him, on his bed.

Mikey's face, thank God, bore no marks or scars. There were no bruises, no cuts, nothing suggestive that he had suffered and died from a deadly head wound. There was nothing to see unless you lifted his head, tore away the bandana and looked for the neatly stitched line. Donny had made damn sure of that.

Mikey's face was serene, the lips curled upward into a small smirk, the eyes shut with finality, resting on the pillow that hid the rest of the damage. Donny yanked the orange sheets around his shoulders, pulled up the quilt to his chin, and then tucked the rest into a tight cacoon.

In an effort to spare Splinter and Leo from the torture of staring at their dead loved one, Donny had discretely draped the orange blanket over his brother's face. Leo had rounded on him with a whimper, as he snatched the blanket from Don's stunned fingers. Leo was crumbling into tears and he met Donny's huge, stricken eyes.

Swallowing hard, Leo stared dumbly at the blanket, then at Donny, agonized and apologetic.

" Please don't cover him up. Mikey would have hated that." It was softly spoken, barely above a whisper, and to Donny, absolutely infuriating. He yanked the blanket high, let it flail out like a banner, and tucked it over Mikey's face. He didn't acknowledge the rage, or the irritation of his fingers quaking so much. Rounding on Leo, he heaved and jammed a finger towards the body.

"That's not *him*, Leo! That's the leftovers after his murder...that *thing* laying there on that bed is not my brother!"

He fractured, then. Fell apart completely as his rationality and control over his thoughts collapsed, and he was left with nothing but one dead brother, and the living one staring at him in bewildered horror.

"Mikey would have hated it, Leo? More than he would have hated enduring a cranial fracture? More than this hell?"

His voice grew shrill, and then needle sharp as he clutched at his temples. Even breathing seemed so damn wrong, as the cold rationality came back in one cleansing flood.

"Leo, tell me something." Donny's voice was glacial, each word carefully parcelled out. "If you are responsible for each of us, how in the hell could you lapse so terribly and allow this to happen?"

Donny remembered little of that horrible conversation, only that Leo's eyes went huge with hurt shock.

"What?" It was a bewildered whisper, as Leo just stared at him, numbly.

"Maybe the damn lapse came from ya not fixin' Mikey when he was alive, Don. Eva' think of that?"

Raphael's words were like a whiplash, as he suddenly rippled into Don's blurred vision, all snarl and spit and anguish so deep it felt like rage. He shrugged off April and Casey's grip like water. Don suddenly found himself hoisted into the air, slammed into the wall, and penned by Raph's clawing fingers.

"What the - is wrong with you? Wasn't it enough that we lost Mikey, or ya want to drive Leo into doin' himself in, too?"

Donny winced, his lips pressed into a hard, white line. He just glared at Raphael, and said nothing.

"Raph..." .

"Raph, let him go. Please." Leo's strangled plea made the blind rage in Raphael's gut uncoil like a noose.

He looked at Donny with horror as he stared at his own hand that was crushing his own brother against the wall.

Raphael suddenly flung Don away as if he were an unclean thing. Donny groaned, but was silent as he brushed knuckles against his bruised throat, and gave Raphael a bitter shake of his head. His eyes were full of guilty sorrow when he saw Leo. Raphael ignored him when he saw Leo's jarring flinch, the way his breaths came as erratic as a hatchling's wingbeats.

Uncertainly, Raphael glanced at Leo, and slid an arm over him. Leo wilted into the embrace.

Leo just bowed his head into Raph's protective shoulder, buried his face into Raph's neck, clung to him like a beaten kid, and sobbed.

Donny stared at Leo's bent shell, misery and guilt warring in his guts, as he tried to think of what the hell could be said to make any of this right. And then his mouth clamped shut with the finality of a tomb door when he realized it was futile. Raphael awkwardly held Leo to his plastron and whispered something Donny could not make out. Leo recoiled at first, but let Raphael go.

Raphael sighed heavily, as he swallowed.

"Donny..." He said his brother's name, soft and broken, as he waved a hand around the Lair.

"Normally, I ain't much good at peace-keepin', and bein' nice. 's more your thing than mine, ya know that. But, Donny.." His voice faltered as his eyes swept wretchedly over all of them, and lingered longest on Mikey's corpse.

"If we keep this sort o' thing up, we may as well just let the Foot finish the job and join Mikey."

Donny stiffened at the blunt truth as April gasped behind him.  
"Whatever the hell this is between us, can we let it go for now?" Donnatello heard the plea in his voice, the fear of being wounded and scorned..

Donnatello exhaled a long, drained sigh, and felt the familiar heaviness descend, of needed rationality, self-control, detached intellect. And then, he saw Raphael, hurting and only opening himself to be ravaged at Donny's answer. 


	9. Rend

Looking back, Raphael would only recall the bleery morning in shards. The renewed agony of seeing Mikey laying there, on that bed,looking as peaceful as a little kid that had been tucked in and was happily dreaming of a bright morning.

God in heaven, he hoped it was that way...

Leo, stricken, muffling the keening cry with a fist to his mouth and looking bewilldered with terror and grief. Raphael would never forget those absymal eyes, glassy and fixed as a corpse's gaze around the Lair. He ha never seen Leo so damn lost.

April, her face contorting when the sight of Mikey's body came with the quickness of a slap, and the way that Casey just tucked her face under his chin and held her against him like a frail shield.

Splinter had emerged, tottering on his cane as if he were suddenly burdened with an unbearable weight. The old rat only shuffled towards Mikey, lay a shaking paw on his forehead.

And then, Donny. Raphael swallowed back the heat, the hatred when he finally scraped together enough nerve to look at his brother.

Donny looked like hell. Scraped raw of everything but that numb silence. He was trembling, his movements blunted and slow. The exhaustion was clearly at war with the adrenaline of a sleepless night spent trying to save his dying brother and then dressing his corpse.

Raphael frowned with troubling awareness, as he glanced from the carefully arranged sheets, tucked around the bruised arms,  
and legs..

Raphael's frown deepened when he saw that Mikey's mask-which had been bloodied and shredded-had been mysteriously replaced and precisely tied.

Donny had done that.

Had handled his dead brother's flesh with the care of a holy relic. Had taken on the last task of making sure that Mikey was mended, in the only that Donny could.

Raphael felt sick with the sudden guilt. He had run away from them all, and spent the night blubbering at April's. Donny had spent the night stitching up his dead baby brother, alone.

And now, Donny was staring at him, as if he were at the cliff's edge and expecting Raphael to shove him off.

Raphael sighed, groped for words, an idea, anything that could pull his brother back. The cruel words Don had flung at him could be dealt with later.

Raph's eyes fell on Mikey's corpse, and then he said softly, "Ya did all this. For him and us."

Donny flinched, slid his eyes to meet his. "What are you talking about, Raph?" The words were thick, choked, tired.

"This-" he gestured towards the sheets, the neatly tucked pillow. "Ya stitched him up, took care of him. Ya made it easier for us to see him even after-"

Donny couldn't stop the weary snarl, "I couldn't do anything else."

Raphael tilted his head at that, frowning. Donny sighed, flung a hand outward. "After Mikey was gone, I..."

He swallowed hard, and shook his head. "It wasn't much, Raphael. Not much at all. Just stitches and sheets."

Donny's voice was brittle, and his eyes were narrowed and frozen, even when Leo whimpered behind him. "Stitches and sheets. I spent the night sewing up my dead brother's head. "

The mirthless chuckle burbled up, fragmented like glass as Donny just shook his head with a bitter smirk. "Did you hear me, Raph?  
While you were taking refuge at April's and Leo was finally sleeping, I was worrying about what sheets Mikey would like. Sheets!"

He spat, as he trembled into the next spastic laugh, "Sheets! Is that not the most idiotic, sick thing you've heard?"

From behind, Raphael could hear Leo's gasp. April was standing there, jaw slack.

Donny continued to collapse, each word falling like dominoes.

"And then the convulsions started. Mikey had three,did you know that? And the only thing I could do was keep him from choking on his vomit, and stuff the pillow under his head so he wouldn't bang it on the table, and it wasn't enough! It didn't do a damn thing to save him!"

Donny shrieked the last words, as his twitching hands flew like frightened birds before he shoved them under his arms. There was only the absolute, yawning horror, the fragments of the shriek echoing through the Lair.

"Donny?" Raphael's voice was wary, soft, and afraid, as Don just stared, unfocused at the distance, as if he had found something bearable to see.

"Don?"

Donny twitched at the sound, turned his face with a rigid jerk towards Raphael. Stared at him, numb and quaking and scraped empty.

Raphael awkwardly shrugged, fumbling for anything that could put his shattered brother back together.

"Ya did more for Mikey than any of us could. Hell, I ran away."

"Only because I drove you to it, Raphael. What I said to you was unforgivable."

Donny answered harshly, as Splinter was already laying a comforting paw on his arm. It was meant to be soothing, but it felt heavy and invasive. Splinter frowned at Don's recoil, and let him go.

"Raph." Donny squinted at his brother, eyes eerily bright and disjointed. "I'm sorry."

Raphael forced his mouth into a forgiving quirk, as he hitched his shoulders, uncomfortably. "Forget it, Don. Got bigger things to worry about than ya mouthin' off on occasion."

Donny just breathed at the uncharacteristic forgiveness, the dismissal of all his guilt and wounds somehow more angering than healing.

"Thank you, Raphael."

It was far more curt and short than he intended, as Raphael narrowed his eyes, now pissed and wary. Don cringed inwardly, he knew that Raphael was never as oblivious to the undercurrents of the things that could drown.

"Don-"

"Not now, Raph. Please, not now."

Raphael gave him a curt sigh, a small nod, even a hand on his shoulder. Don's fingers were shaking as they tightened over his,before he slid out of his grip.

"Raph..." Don was almost pleading.

Raphael met his eyes, understanding.

"Take it easy, will ya? Ain't nothing to forgive, Don."

Don knew full well that the things between all of them would fester, unhealed. But, it was just too damn big for him to deal with now.

Raphael looked around the room. Casey and April were still clutching each other like drowning little kids, Splinter's gaze was ravaged.  
Donny was staring and rigid at the wall, and Leo was wilted in tears.

Hell, they were all broken. The only one who looked at peace was Mikey. Raphael shivered at the horrible thought, swallowed hard, and gestured towards the ceiling.

"The van's here. We should get movin'." The words seemed stupid, unnecessary.

His family stared at him, frozen, anguished. April, God bless her, gently nudged Casey as she nodded, and gave them all a small smile.

"We went ahead and packed you the basics. Casey parked the van close."

She flicked him a glance as he nodded, awkwardly. "Uh, yeah. Do ya all need some help getting your stuff?"

"No, thanks, Casey. We're ready to leave when you are." Leo spoke softly, as April looked at him in surprise. It was the first time he had spoken.

"Mr. Jones. Miss O'Neil..thank you."

Splinter whispered as he rose from his crouch by Mikey, and tottered forward on his cane.

Casey nodded, uneasily. "You're family. What happens to you happens to us."

For the first time, Leo looked less like a gutted animal, and a bit more like himself.

Raphael snorted, and gruffly waved a hand. "Are we gonna sit around and write love poetry, or are we gonna get a move on? Let's go already."

"April, Casey, would you mind going up and waiting in the van, please?" Leo's voice was polite, but strained, as April raised an eyebrow.

Leo turned to her. "We need to bring Mikey with us."

She paled with understanding. Casey was already backpeddling, palms splayed outward. "We'll keep watch, guys. Take as long as you need for this, okay?"

The humans were understanding, polite and silent as they almost apologetically exited the Lair. Casey said nothing as he hefted some of the Turtles' gear and carried it off.

Raphael gave him a small nod of gratitude as he left.

Raphael took a deep, shuddering breath, looked at his brothers-the living ones, and his master.

There was only silence and the sound of shuffling cloth. Leo nodded to them all, and with tearless eyes and shaking hands, gently slid his arms under Mikey's shoulders and hoisted him, bedding and all, off the table. Raphael carefully worked his arms under the orange sheets, felt the curve of Mikey's shell as he hauled him up from the table. Donny gripped the slack ankles, with a care and a gentleness of handling something precious.

Splinter's paws were unsteady as he stooped over Mikey's body. The old rat carefully retucked the sheets around him, caressed the cold forehead in the same gesture he used to comfort Mikey as a child.

"Rest, my dear, brave son. Rest for now."

The words were harshly whispered, the paws twisted in anguish as they gently graced the once merry mouth, the bright eyes shut with finality, the cold, flaccid hands that did not grip his own in return.

Together, the living three hoisted the one that they lost, cradling him on shoulders and shaking limbs, as they moved as one through the Lair.

It was surreal, walking past the pizza boxes that held their last meal together. Past the dojo where Mikey's spare nunchucks still lay flung across the mat. Past the couch where they had jostled each other for control of the remote, and griped good-naturedly over the crap on the television. Past the hallways Mikey had filled with his laughter and antics and irritatingly high spirits. Out of the sickroom where he had died, despite their vigil, pleading, and prayers.

Raphael would later recall that he felt detached, and floating like a cloud over the hell around him, numb and too wounded to feel anything. It was a hell of a lot easier than feeling the agony again.

Surely they should have wept. Surely they should have wailed, and sobbed and screamed as they carried their baby brother over the puddles of the sewer and past the thresholds to the manhole where the van was parked. There was only the sliver of the lone street light, flanked by the shadows of the abandoned section of town. The ladder's rungs were a thin silver spilling down at their feet. Raph snorted at the thought of it being a stairway to heaven.

When the foosteps and the shadows flickered over the moon's pale glow, they froze, as Casey timidly peeked down at them.

"Ya need help, guys?"

He only heard Raph's bitter sigh. "No thanks, Case. We got this, okay?"

Casey only nodded, as he scrambled to open the van doors and stood back. April warily watched from her perch in the front seat.

Splinter emerged first, squinting in the darkness. Leo peered at the surface, before gracefully flipping upward, and landing at the hole's edge. He crouched, as he carefully lowered himself.

His fingers groped in the black, and he brushed the edge of the blanket. He heard Raphael grunt, as he eased Mikey's body upward towards Leo's hand.

Leo's arms were flung wide as he embraced the corpse, sheltering it against being violated by his own shaking clumsiness. Carefully,  
he slid Mikey upward,and staggered, clutching him to his plastron.

Mikey was in his arms. His baby brother felt like a burden, so still and unprotesting in his protective arms. Leo whimpered as he buried his face in the sheets. He felt Mike's forehead against the curve of his cheek, the familiar cloth scraping his chin as he bundled him under his neck and forced himself to walk those last steps to van. The doors were wide and waiting as a tomb.

Raphael quickly flipped out of the ground, and landed. Raphael stared at Leo's bent shell, and said nothing.  
Crouching at the rim of the manhole, he reached down for Donny's scrambling fingers, and grunted as he hauled him out.  
Donny stiffened in surprise as Raphael steadied him with a quick arm under his shoulder.

"Ya good?" Raph asked worriedly, as Donny willed himself to stop shaking so hard.

"No, Raph. I'm not."

Raph gave him a bitter smirk. "Hell, Don. None of us are. Not now."

Leo leaned into the tethering arms on his shoulders, and did not protest as Raph flanked him on one side, and Donny on the other.  
Together, they stepped into the darkness of the van, as Casey slammed the doors shut.

Master Splinter was already at work creating the pallet, with the bedding from the Lair. April had kindly brought Mikey's blanket that he had left at her apartment so long ago. Never, never had she thought it would now be his burial shroud.

Leo was so careful as he lay Mikey down at last, and stepped back. Donny and Raphael worked quickly, and gently, as they wove the sheets and quilts until Mikey was cacooned, and safe. It may have been a worthless attempt. It may have been pointless. But it dulled the sharp wounds to a more bearable ache, to see him curled up and protected by his loved ones. Raphael would look back on that moment in the years that followed, and take a sick comfort in seeing Mikey laying on his quilt,  
with his brothers around him, and not sprawled out and bleeding alone on the concrete.

Leaning back, aching and torn, he said nothing, only allowed Donny to sag against him. He was not surprised when Leo finally slid down on his other side, and leaned against him. His brothers were still trembling when Raphael gathered them both in one armed embraces and held them. They hadn't piled together like this since they were kids, but it felt safer, more like home. Raphael bit his lip to keep back the cry at how empty it was without Mikey wiggling next to them and whining for more room.

"Rest for now, my brave son."

Raphael drifted off to the quiet cadance of his brothers' breathing, never knowing or caring if Splinter's words were for him, or all of them. 


	10. The Failure

Leo watched the languid crawl of daylight, suddenly ripped from his uneasy sleep when the van had lurched. He had shot awake, disoriented, and afraid, before the hell and the realization crashed back. Mercifully, he had caught himself from leaping up, or flinching too sharply. It had taken longer for him to calm his erratic heartbeat, or cobble together enough restraint to slump back, and stay still. His left shoulder ached from Raph's sprawl against him. Raphael, probably exhausted, and only half awake,  
had yanked the quilt over him and Leo before he curled against his older brother and finally went to sleep.

At his right, Donny had simply pillowed his shoulder against Leo's side, leaned against him, and drifted off. Leo shut his eyes, both to stop the tears,and to avoid staring down at Mikey's still form, shrouded in blankets and shadows. He still lay swaddled in the cacoon of bedding, with only the bright flare of orange from his bandana draped at his side. A shaft of light spilled from the front window. Leo watched, silent and transfixed as the light slid over the floor,and for a moment, haloed Mikey. Leo swallowed back the sob when it lingered, soft as a kiss, over Mikey, swathing his dearly familiar smirk in light before sliding away.

Thank God Mikey's face had been left intact. Thank God Leo had solace in seeing his baby brother's serene expression, the eyes gently shut. Not contorted in a scream, not twisted in agony, not ravaged by wound, or pain, or blood.

Thank God Mikey hadn't died in the hellish panic of Donny's frenzied attempts to save him, or Leo's sobbing, or Raph's helpless rage.  
No...Mikey had gone gently. Peacefully. Just a few slowing breaths, with his brothers around him, as they held him in their arms and loved him and waited for the end they had fought so damn hard to delay.

Leo would never, ever forget that tortured sense of knowing, flickering on the edge of his thoughts.  
He knew Mikey's odds when he saw the horror on Don's face. And when Mikey toppled, sprawled and bleeding at his feet, Leo only had to look at that slack, limp body and know it was only a matter of when, not if.

And the tears burned, even as he tried to squelch them. Guilt seared like acid over his cringing soul, made him grind his teeth as he choked like an animal in a snare.

Wordlessly, he mouthed to his dead brother, "I'm sorry, Mikey. I'm so sorry. It should have been me, not you. I'm sorry!"

Sorrow made the words so viciously inadequate. Guilt made them disgustingly weak. Maybe it was his trembling that roused Donny,  
or maybe the scrape of a sob that not even Leo could mask. Uneasily, Donny muttered in his sleep, before his eyes slid open, and he squinted owlishly at Leo. Only half awake, he yawned, burrowed back against Leo, but was instantly awake when Leo tensed.

Donny carefully sat up, and gently set the blanket over Raphael, who was curled in fetal position beside Leo.

Donny's eyes narrowed in scrutiny as he saw Leo's ravaged face, the inexplicable guilt, and the loss making Leo huddle into himself as if pleading with the earth to swallow him.

Leo kept his head bowed, his eyes shuttered to the floor, and failed miserably at keeping his face impassive under Don's gently invasive stare.

There was only the sigh that held no impatience, as Don eased himself closer, mindful of both Mikey's body, which he stoicly ignored.

" Leo, what's wrong?" Don's question was far too loaded and searching for Leo to even attempt to acknowledge, let alone answer.

"Nothing. Don't worry about me, Don. Why don't you go back to sleep." It was a tired order as Leo withdrew further into his own thoughts.

Donny scowled in concern. "Leo, don't give me that. What's wrong?"

Leo fractured into soft weeping, as Donny's eyes went huge with alarm. Carefully sidestepping Raphael, he eased an arm over Leo's bent neck and attempted to draw Leo into the embrace.

Leo recoiled with a whimper, as if he were trapped. Don let him go, raised his hands in retreat, clearly at a loss.

"Please don't do that. I don't deserve it, and it only makes it worse."

Donny watched as Leo just buried his face in his hands, shaking and sick.

"What ya talkin' about, Leo? What do ya mean, ya don't deserve Don tryin' ta comfort ya?"

Both Leo and Donny flinched at Raph's growl from the corner. Raphael cursed as he flung the blanket away irritably, and scowled at Leo, clearly demanding an answer.

"Leo, what the hell did ya mean by that?"

Leo trembled as if the words were like a battering ram. Twisting away from them, he only whispered, "You don't understand! This is all my fault!"

"Like hell it is, Fearless. Ya didn't take a brick and-"

"The brick was for me!" Leo shrieked out the words, as he clawed at his temples. "Mikey shoved me out of the way. If he hadn't..."  
Leo swallowed, and forced himself to say the last vicious truth.

"If he hadn't shoved me out of the way, he'd still be alive. Don't you see now?" He stared up at his brothers, pleading.  
"It should have been me." The finality and the agony in his voice even made Raphael blanche, overwhelmed, and too stunned to speak.

Raphael and Donny exchanged glances, as Raphael nodded, curtly.

"Are ya hearin' yourself, Fearless? Ye seriously think this would be any easier if it had been you instead of Mikey? That it's your damn responsibility to be such a stupid effin' martyr? So, Mikey saved ya by takin that hit for ya? So the hell what?"

Raphael snarled as he flung a hand over Mikey's corpse. "Ya don't get it, Fearless! Ya seriously don't get that I'd gladly take Mikey's place,and that Don's been sittin' here thinking the same damn thing? Damn it, if any of us could, we would, only it wouldn't work, cuz Mikey wouldn't let us!"

Raph's eyes seared into Leo's, as he gripped Leo's shoulders. "Look, Fearless, I'm only gonna say this once. I don't know how we're gonna get through this. Hell... I don't know if we can."

Raphael slumped, and exhaled. "But, Mikey would have hated seein' ya taking the blame and hurtin' yourself like this, Leo. And takin'  
that brick was something that any one of us would have done for each other. Hell, we've all taken each other's hits, knowing that we might be killed for it, and doin' it anyway. That's what ya do when you're brothers. Ya take each other's hits, Leo. But not the blame,  
alright?"

Raphael's hands were heavy, but reassuring as he finally squeezed and then let Leo go. "Don't take any more blame, Fearless. It ain't helpin."  



	11. A Father's Pain

Donny groaned himself awake. The aftermath of Raph's odd, but seering comfort to Leo had been the only bright spot in what was the hellish night. Donny still felt the vague, but worthless guilt of not being able to stop Leo's anguish, or Raph's wounded,  
uncertain attempt to comfort him. Leo had stopped sobbing sometime in the night, and slumped between Raphael and Donny, finally passing out. The wan grey of morning was spilling through the van windows, as Casey cussed softly and eyed the road. April was wilted in the seat, asleep.

Carefully ignoring Mikey's corpse, Donny craned his neck to check on Splinter. The old rat was dozing lightly by Mikey's head, paws still curled over his son's cold forehead. Squinting, Donny peered out the windshield. The roar of the city had faded to the quiet green stillness of the country side. Awake now, Donny yawned and stifled the groan at the aching stiffness of his shoulders. Gently easing Leo to the side, he turned to see if Raph was alright. Raphael had curled on his side, knees and arms nearly in fetal position. He shifted and muttered uneasily, but remained asleep.

"Good morning, my son." Splinter's soft whisper was only a gentle breath as the old rat offered him a kind, but tired smile.

Donny flinched and swallowed a few times before he answered, "Good morning, Sensai. Did you sleep at all?"

Splinter sighed, sadly. "I slept, but I did not rest. But do not worry about me, Donnatello. This ordeal is wearying for all."

Splinter's eyes narrowed when he saw Don's troubled glance towards Mikey.

"What is worrying you, my son?"

Donny cringed at the question. "It's nothing, Master Splinter...or at least nothing that I want to bother you with right now."

"Donnatello." Splinter's voice was still soft, still kind, but edged with command, as he stared at his son.

"As a father, it pains me to see my sons suffer so much, and be helpless in easing their sorrow. My son, what troubles you? Will you not allow me to help you?"

Donny allowed the reassuring paws to caress his forehead. He allowed Splinter's failing attempt to comfort, to soothe, to heal.  
But, he didn't allow Splinter to know his full anguish, and he didn't voice the true horror that he was grappling with.

It was disgusting and cruel, but none the less true. Mikey had now been dead for over twenty-four hours.

Were they human...

Donny choked back the tears, again. Were they human, Mikey would have had medical treatment, pain killers, a chance. Not the scared, shaking stitches of a terrified brother who could do nothing at all but time the convulsions, and watch him die.

Were they human, Mikey's corpse would not be suffering the indignity of being wrapped in sheets in the back of a creaking van.  
No, they would have had the mercy of at least a tombstone, a casket, a proper burial. Not this sick dash to the isolated wilderness,  
where they'd have to dig their own brother's grave, so that his body remain unviolated by the cruel human curiosity.

Donny bit back the obvious question of how long they had before Mikey's body started succumbing to the ravages of time.

His tortured thoughts were interrupted by Raphael's grunt and shifting in the corner. Raphael groaned against the metal, as he muttered,  
and twitched awake.

Blinking, he winced as he straightened his legs, mindful of both Leo and carefully avoiding touching Mikey's pallet.

"Mornin'." It was a rough, scraped raw sound, nothing like his usual irritation.

"Good morning, Raphael. Did you get any rest?"

Raphael yawned, and clapped a hand over his mouth before answering Splinter with a hitch of his shoulder.

"I got some sleep, but not much. How ya doin', Donny?"

"I've been better, but I did sleep a little." Don's soft answer came as he resumed his unwilling stare at Mikey's body.

Raphael's eyes narrowed at some thought, before he quietly, brittly announced. "Mikey deserved better than this."

Splinter only stared at Raphael with wounded, wounded eyes. Donny only nodded, numbly.

Raphael's lip twisted in anguished, barely held back rage. "I mean...what the hell is this?" He flung a hand over Mikey's body, and let it drop back to his side.

"It shoulda been me. I'm the damn hothead, the one who's always getting into the fights..." His voice trailed off to bewildered silence.

"And Mikey dies from one hit...that's...that's just so damn ..wrong."

The words fell heavy, and shattered as his hands crept to his sais, and he hoisted one high, prong jutting skyward.

"When I get back, I'm killin' every one of those damn bastards."

"Raphael...my son..." Splinter's words dribbled into futile acceptance. The old rat only lay a paw over Raphael's wrist and gently forced him to lower the weapon.

"My son, you will have time afterwards to seek vengence. Please, focus on helping your broken brothers heal."

Raphael hissed, and choked, suddenly feeling the helpless rage surging like fire through his very bones. Splinter watched as the sais trembled, as Raphael bit off the words.

"I can't do that, Sensai. Not when those bastards are walking around free, while we're here burying our baby brother."

He turned to Splinter, as his eyes started spilling over. "Master Splinter, don't ask me to just let this go. Damn it, I can't!"

Splinter's paw was soft against his cheek, seeking and calming. It felt like home. "Raphael, my son. Killing others will not return Michelangelo to us. And there is not enough blood that can be spilled to make vengence possible."

Raphael went rigid at his touch, and snarled, "So now, what? We just forgive and forget and send 'em flowers? They killed Mikey,  
Master! They-"

"Raphael!" Splinter's voice was sharp and sudden as being stabbed. Raphael shut his eyes, curled his arms against his heaving ribs,  
tried to keep from crumbling into tears and sobs and screams.

"My son."

Raphael grit his teeth, swallowed, and forced himself to turn to Splinter. "I have already lost one son, and your brothers have already suffered more than they can bear. Please. Please do not force me to bury yet another of my children." 


	12. Arrival

The plea felt like a punch to the gut, and Splinter's ravaged, imploring gaze forced Raphael to avert his eyes.  
Raphael swallowed hard, the words clogging in his throat, before he finally ground out,

"Ya don't need to worry about buryin' me, Master. I ain't that lost."

His fists clenched, as did his jaw, before he submitted rigidly to the old rat's embrace. Once upon a time, those arms had been haven, refuge, safety. Even now, when he nearly towered over the old rat, as bitter and battle scarred as he was, he leaned into the hug and let Splinter hold him in those frail, shaking arms.

"Sorry, Sensai." Raphael shut his eyes, everything warring and writhing in his gut. Splinter's grip tightened in understanding.

"Your brothers need your strength, my son.."

Raphael nodded curtly, shut his eyes and carefully hugged Splinter back.

"My brave, brave Raphael."

The old rat whispered as he finally relinquished his grip. Raphael only bowed his head in silence, before he abruptly lowered himself by Donny's side. Donny flinched in shock as Raphael suddenly flung an arm over his shell. When Donny felt Raphael's tremble, he said nothing at all, but only curled closer.  
It was comforting.

"Raph?" Donny ventured after the silence had become unbearable. He felt Raphael tense before he muttered, "Yeah?"

"Raph, are you alright?"

Raphael said nothing for long moments, only kept his frigid silence and burning gaze fixed on Mike's body.

"Yeah. I'm okay, Don. Don' worry about me."

Don gave him an uncertain glance, but when he saw Raphael's hardened glare, he wisely let it go. The question gnawed at him,before he jabbed a finger at Mikey, and asked, bitterly, "What happens now?"

Donny shrugged, uncertain of the answer, or the question. Raphael gave the sheets a long, tortured stare.

"That." Raphael shut his eyes, and ground out the breath, before he forced himself to continue.

"What the hell do we do about that? I mean, we can't just leave Mikey like this."

Splinter only breathed, softly, as he gave them all a gentle, sad smile.

"It is a practical concern, my son. Michaelangelo must be laid to rest. And as his family, it will be our duty to see this fulfilled in a way that honors him."

Donnatello halted uncertainly, before finally answering, "We do have a place, actually. It's not too far from the farm house, but it's isolated enough that we don't have to worry about the site being disturbed."

Softly, he shrugged. "Mikey really liked it."

Raphael flinched at that, met his eyes, and clapped Don on the shoulder.

"Always watchin' out for us, Don." Raphael's hand lingered on his shoulder in gratitude. Donny gave him a sad smile in return.

"We're brothers, Raph. That's what we do."

"No, Don. That's what you do. None of the rest of us would have even thought-"

"Raph." Don's voice was heavy and so very tired. "How could we? This..this sort of thing was always what I had hoped was a nightmare, nothing more. Even now, I keep looking at Mikey and wishing that he'd just wake up and make this all a bad,bad dream. We're all doing the best we can under the worst circumstances possible. I'm hardly heroic."

Sighing, he gave Raph's hand a squeeze in silent support.

Unexpectedly, Casey boomed unnecessarily from the front, as the van squealed to a halt. "Hey, fellas. We're here."

At the sudden noise, Leo abruptly started awake, eyes wide, hands instinctively on his weapons, plastron heaving. Raphael cracked him a tolerant smile.

"Mornin, fearless. We're here."

Leo only gave him a curt nod as he tried and failed to control his erratic breathing. Narrowing his eyes, he glared at the sunlight spilling through the window.

"You left me to sleep?" The question was incredulous, as he stared hard at Mikey's corpse.

"Leo, we all slept. We were all exhausted, and we still are." Donny pointed out.

All of them froze when the van door opened up, spilling in the bright morning. Casey gave them all an uncertain "Mornin',"  
while April peeked from over his shoulder with a kind smile.

"Good morning, Mr. Jones, and Miss O'Neil. Please accept my gratitude for your kindness in taking us on this difficult journey."  
Splinter greeted them as he rose on his cane. Leo instinctively shot upward, and offered the old rat his arm in support.

"Uh, yeah. You're welcome. Here, I'll help ya get your gear out of the van.." Casey muttered uneasily, as he unlocked the door and jumped to the gravel with a grunt. April, perched on her elbows, eyed them all, worriedly. They understandably looked as if they had been through hell and back.

Splinter had aged a thousand years in one night, scraped raw and old by sorrow too great for words, and only held together by the love for his sons. Donny, normally easy going, quiet, and gentle, looked on the verge of an explosion, tense, trapped, and scared by what had already been done. His hands, almost heedless of his will, kept balling up, and clenching, as he sat rigidly as a tiger ready to spring. Leo had never looked so lost, or helpless. His eyes were huge, almost empty, and fixed off in the distance, as if he had found something more bearable to focus on. He was huddled next to Raphael, apparently taking comfort in Raph's protective arms. He could not stop trembling or letting out the whimpering sobs.

April swallowed hard before she forced herself to look at Raphael. Ironically, Raphael seemed to be mercifully intact. He was barely able to tolerate comforting Leo. Knowing that he couldn't stand to let him go, Raph clutched his brother's shell in one arm and the pummel of his sais in the other. His eyes were narrowed, burning, as he glared hard at Mikey's corpse with a dark scowl in seething, anguished silence. He flinched, feeling the weight of her concern, and twisted his head around to peer at her.  
Meeting her eyes, he forced his scowl into a less grim line, and gave her a curt nod. Somehow, that made her ache for them even more.

"Thanks, April. For last night and everything."

"Any time, Raph. I'm here for you. All of you, okay?"

He accepted her reassurances with as much gratitude that he could scrape together.

Raphael eyed his brothers for a long moment as he grunted and rose. He groaned and stretched away some of the ache, as Donny folded up his legs to give room for his family to exit. Splinter took Leo's steadying arm, and stepped out into the bright, green day that was sickeningly cheerful.

Casey had heaped all of the bags in a pile and was standing awkwardly waiting, as April clamoured out of the van seat.

Raphael was the last to exit, and scowled when he saw Leo and Don and Splinter huddled together and staring at the pile of sheets.

"Leo, Don, help me."

Leo flinched, but almost controlled the tremor in his voice. "We need to lay him to rest. We can't just-"

The horrible thought was mercifully left unspoken, as Don cringed and Raph's face contorted.

"Leonardo, there is no point in torturing yourself over these details we have not yet attended to." Splinter said, softly.

"We will lay Michaelangelo to rest, with honor, and with love, as he deserves, my sons."

Tenderly, he brushed his paw over Mikey's forehead, and let his paw linger. " My sons, it is needless to fret over Michaelangelo's remains. Your brother would not wish you to torment yourselves over exactly what is to be done. In this case, there is no right,  
or wrong choice, only those that we make with upmost respect and love for his memory."


	13. Memento Mori

For the past twenty-four hours, Raphael had been stumbling through the agony, feeling as if his soul had been leeched from his bones and mangled beyond repair. The anguish of loss was just too damn much for him to accept, let alone feel. It was just too deep. It was just too soon. Now, the agony had dulled to ache and bewilderment. Raph found himself still staring wide-eyed and numb at his baby brother's corpse. Even though he had been staring at the body curled in the sheets through a blur of tears for almost two days, he couldn't get it through his thick skull that this battered wreck was all that remained of his beloved brother.

How in the hell were they supposed to get through something like this? Raph couldn't answer the question, and did not attempt to try.

Before any of his brothers could emerge from their little protective huddle, Raphael edged over to the sheets. He shut his eyes, drew a deep breath that felt like a prayer of some sort. Grunting, Raph stooped low, eased his arms under Mikey's shell, and ignored the wilted limbs that spilled from under the blanket. Kneeling, he adjusted the precious burden, making sure that Mikey was secure.

Raphael kept his eyes rigidly fixed on the sunlight that spilled through the open van doors. Daylight. Another day had passed. He glanced over his shoulder, and couldn't stand seeing Leo and Don clinging to each other like little kids and Splinter looking as if he were going to wail like an animal. He shuddered when he felt how light Mikey was now, how slack, how still. There was the terrible moment when Mikey's head flopped back and rolled over Raph's bicep to rest against his shoulder.

Raphael almost screamed when he felt Mikey's icy flesh against his own. Mikey had already gone cold. Swallowing back the vomit, and recoiling, Raph shut his eyes for a long moment. Grit his teeth. Swallowed back the scream again.

Damned if he would subject Leo or Don to the horror of him dropping Mike's body because he suddenly lost it. Hell, no. The tighter grip meant that Raphael had the torture of holding his brother's corpse even longer. He could do this, damn it. He had to. For Mikey.

He stared down at Mike's face, and curled his arms against the sheets, protectively. It may have been useless, now, but he was still holding his baby brother. Somehow, Raph found a bit of comfort at that. Tightening his grip, and balancing, Raphael cradled Mikey close to his plastron, closer to his heart.

Ignoring his brothers, and the tears trickling down his face, he only tossed over his shoulder, "I got this."

Don made a small sound of protest, as Leo only shook his head, gently. Resolutely, Raphael lurched forward, forcing his feet to march the six steps out of the van that had served as the hearse . Six steps of carrying a burden so heavy that he nearly crumbled. Six steps with the thought of Mikey being sprawled in the dirt that made Raph tighten his grip and walk on.

The last two nights were nothing but a smear of sleepless torpor, and fragmented attempts to just shove himself through the hours. The morning before yesterday, there had been four. Now, there were three. Math that simple shouldn't be so damn hard to understand. From behind, Raphael heard Leo's graceful exit from the van, and Splinter's gentle shufflling. There was the rustle of bedding. Donny must have been gathering up leftover sheets.

"Raph?" April uncertainly spoke his name. He did not turn, but halted and tilted his head to show he was listening. He heard her swallow before she hesitantly continued. A soft, human hand on his shoulder. He flinched and shrugged it off, as she warily stepped forward.

"Please, Raph. Tell us what you want done."

His dark, ravaged eyes slid to hers, and he trembled. "I want my baby brother back. Ya think you can do that?" His voice was a hard snarl instead of a sob.

"Raph." Her eyes flickered over his shoulder to his ravaged family before she resumed her level stare at him. Her voice was taught as frayed rope as she put both hands on his shoulders and forced him to look at her.

Her eyes were glimmering with compassion. "We need to know what you guys want done."

His eyes narrowed, but he turned to face her completely, then. "April-" He choked her name and shut his eyes to keep them from flooding in front of her.

"What the hell do you want me to tell you?" He hated how it sounded like a plea.

April finally looked down at Mikey, miserable and uncertain before she finally heaved out, "We need to know what you want to do about laying Mikey to rest, Raph. Just tell us and Casey and I will do whatever we can, okay?"  
"We're gonna bury him." He glared at the trees. "Don found a place out here somewhere that Mikey liked. Said that it was in case anything happened to us. Way to think ahead, eh?" He said bitterly.

"Raph, from the depths of my soul, I am so sorry about Mikey." April meant it as comfort, but Raphael seemed to take it as an attack. He shuddered as he shut his eyes, and kept them shut until he knew he could stop the crying.

"Thanks." It was breathed and tortured, before he forced himself to hoist Mikey again, heedless of the fact that he had no idea where the burial spot was.

Grimly, he paused, to stare over his shoulder at Casey. Casey flinched under his searing gaze, and almost came running as Raph jerked his head to beckon him over.

"What can I do ya for, Raph?"

Raphael only hissed out through clenched teeth. "We need shovels."


	14. Grief

Sweat and ache. Don disliked both, but he found himself grateful for the tethering hurt that rippled through his arms, as he stooped again. Grunting, he stabbed the earth with the shovel, drove it in until the soil opened like a wound. He drew a shuddering breath as he tossed the dirt into one of the haphazard piles around the mouth of the hole. At his right, Raphael just snarled and slammed his shovel downward, as if attacking an enemy. Leo's sobbing had stopped until he was grim and silent as he flung another shovelful over his shoulder. They were digging Mikey's grave.

There were no sounds except the perversely cheerful bird song, the scrape of wind against leaves, a snorted back sob, and the clang of shovels hitting dirt. Don paused to eye the cloudless abyss above his head, before thrusting the shovel back into the dirt. Beside him, Raphael snarled as he scraped away yet another tear with a knuckle ground into his cheek. Don took great care to ignore his weeping, knowing it would only embarrass Raph. Donny let his exhausted brain dredge up the fragmented memories of the early morning. Raphael had snarled out that he was carrying Mikey into the farm house, and snatched the corpse, sheets and all, up in one shaking armful. Leo met Donny's eyes, and only gave him a curt nod as Don shrugged indifferently. He was too numb to care or fuss over such a minor detail. If carrying Mikey brought Raphael some measure of solace, who the hell was Donny to take that away?

It was forever seared in Don's memory, when he watched Raphael's fingers grace Mikey's cheek, as if seeking certainty. A broken sigh, a sharp exhalation, and Raphael recoiled, before he suddenly scooped up Mike, hefted him high, and shuffled forward. Mikey was the lightest of all of them, and yet..Raphael moved like he was carrying a mountain up a mountain. Or maybe something too heavy and unbearable to lift.

Casey and April had stared, torn and uncertain as Raphael shuffled up the steps, and turned. His eyes were ravaged, as he looked at Casey, and jerked his head forward. Raphael's lips worked against his teeth before he stared down at Mikey, again. He scanned the porch, and scowled. He'd be damned before his baby brother was left to sprawl on the ground.

"Casey?Ya remember that big table ya keep folded up? Get it, will ya?"

From behind, April blanched. "Raph, you mean that you're going to lay Mikey out on-"

Rapahel snarled, pivoted, and roared at her. "Damned right it does, April! My baby brother ain't laying in the dirt, or on the floor! He deserves more than that!"

There was a horrible moment of cowed silence, before April withered and slank back. Casey lay a hand on her shoulder and was already up the steps.

"I'll get it, Raph. Take it easy." Casey tossed over his shoulder.

"I'll help him get it set up."

Leo's voice was barely a whisper as Casey gently brushed himself free of April and scrambled up the steps. Leo paused a moment, before following, without looking back.

Raphael slammed his eyes shut, exhaled. He turned to April. She flinched and inched backwards, clearly trying not to provoke more pain.

" 'm sorry. Ya didn't deserve that, and I'm sorry."

She said nothing, just graced his shoulders with a forgiving side hug. "You're going through hell right now, Raph. Don't be so hard on yourself, okay?"

He nodded, grateful for the kindness. "Thanks." She gave him a sliver of a smile that he didn't return.

Don would never forget the way Raph's voice and hands trembled as he finally turned to Splinter and hard, he fixed his rigid gaze at the treeline at the edge of the vacant field flanking the farm house.

"We need to get this-" He lowered his eyes to Mikey, "taken care of. Now."

Splinter scrubbed tears away from his eyes as he hoarsely shuffled forward. "You are right, my son. But, please, be patient, and allow us the time to prepare and say our goodbyes."

Raphael grit his teeth, and shook his head. "We may not have that much time, Master Splinter."

Don recoiled at the realization that Raphael had just referred to the corpse in his arms as an "it." A thing. Not Mikey any more. That thought shouldn't have felt like his very breath had suddenly grown teeth and was tearing his throat.

"Don?" Raphael was peering at him, uncertainly, eye ridge raised, clearly waiting for an answer. "What do you need, Raph?"

Another heavy sigh, as Raphael carefully shifted Mike's weight to his other shoulder.

"We gonna bury him? Is that that the plan?"

Raphael's question was oddly soft and strange, as he squinted at his brothers.

Vaguely, Don remembered that he had nodded, and pointed and mumbled something he couldn't recall in the direction of the field. Whatever thought he had was gone by the sudden clang of the screen door, and Casey and Leo dragging the massive folding table out to the porch. Leo muttered something to Casey, who nodded with understanding.

"Master Splinter." Leo was remarkably composed, considering the horrible question. "What do you want done about Michaelangelo? How should we honor him?"

"Each of us will honor Michaelangelo's memory in our own way, my son. There is no incorrect way to grieve."

"Master Splinter, I don't mean disrespect, but we need to get Mikey buried." Raphael 's words were brittle, as he grimaced and pulled the sheets over Mikey's face.  
"We need to get this taken care of, Master. Now."

"Raphael, I do not understand your need for urgency in this. Your family must have time to grieve."

"Master Splinter,I-" Raphael faltered, and recoiled. "Look."

Raphael sent Splinter a silent plea, as he tugged the sheet away enough to expose Mikey's 's once emerald skin was starting to take on the hue of a bruise.  
A night, and almost two days, that his son's precious flesh had been without blood flow. Splinter blanched in horrified understanding. Flesh, even his son's, decayed.  
As cruel and sudden as Michaelangelo's death was, Splinter could not allow their last memories of him to be his body succumbing to the ravages of time. Splinter's nose twitched at the growing stench of rot.

Recoiling, he hastily tucked Mikey's wrist back into the sheets. Softly, he whispered to Raphael, "I understand now, my son. And I am grateful that you are trying to spare your brothers of this final horror."

Raphael just nodded.

"Mr. Jones, and Leonardo, please arrange the table."  
Splinter's voice was brittle, and hollow as he bowed his head. The old rat was too raw and brutalized to maintain the veneer of polite restraint.  
Casey just raised an eyebrow, but wrestled the table open with Leo's help. "Where ya want this?"

Leo blanched at the question. Such a simple, stupid question that should have required a simple, stupid answer. Raphael huffed, either annoyed, or angered again. It just seemed so damn wrong to lay something as sacred as his baby brother's remains out on a plastic table, and covered with a sheet. Mikey deserved so much more than a hole in the ground and their tears. It was so damn sick and wrong that he couldn't even have a casket, unless they could hammer something together. Raphael's scowl deepened. That would take days, unless Casey or April could somehow magically procure a casket. Raphael's gut curled in distaste. A body locked up in a box, or just wrapped in a sheet and shoved in a hole. Mikey would have hated either one. Raphael watched Don and Leo, and shook his head. They were still so lost and wounded looking that they wouldn't be able to make any decisions.

"Master Splinter, where do you want the table?" Raphael did his best to keep the impatience out of his voice, as Splinter only raised those ravaged eyes out to the field.

"If it is permissable, I would like Michaelangelo to be placed in the large room, please."

Raphael said nothing, only stepping aside to allow Leo and Casey to lug the table up the porch stairs. There was the dull thud from within the house as they trudged around and set the table out, according to Splinter's wishes.

Donny, unseen, and silent, only swept past Raphael, and lingered, holding the door open. April flanked Raphael, uncertainly, as he ignored them both, and carried his dead brother into the house.

April stood in the quiet slivers of dying daylight. The door was a cheery shade of dull white, and had been familiar. Now, as she stared into the darkness of the room, she shivered inwardly. It felt like entering a grave. The tears trickled down and she sniffled, embarrassed. She nearly yelped in suprise when Don carefully embraced her.

"We wouldn't make it through this without you." He whispered, as he let her go. He had gone into the house before she could answer.

Splinter watched as the golden light of the bright afternoon spilled through the high window. Streaming down, the light bathed the whole room in a comforting shade of sepia. Splinter sighed, wearily. The room itself was large, airy, with a wonderful view of the tall oaks that surrounded the farmhouse. The wooden floor beneath his paws was worn smooth, the walls a muted ivory, complete with checkered curtains lightly fluttering from the gentle breeze. Splinter was embittered by the sun being so perversely bright, for the birdsong that swelled through the trees. How could there dare be such cheer when he was keeping his useless vigil over his precious, precious deceased son?

It was useless and futile, but Splinter threaded his paw under the still throat and forced his palm to lay across the icy flesh. There was still no breath or pulse. There hadn't been for almost two days, now. Splinter had retained the mercifully naive hope, however childish, that his youngest would somehow bounce awake with his huge grin and say it was all a joke. At one time, Michaelangelo's giggling was an irritant, but now, Splinter would have given his soul to hear it one more time. Shuffling forward, the old rat arranged the bedding yet again. He caressed Michaelangelo's forehead, yet again, starting from the cold arch of his cheek and trailing upward over his bandana. Splinter's gut clenched, fingers halting at the discoloration that had already started. Michaelangelo's once green skin was now ashen. Splinter numbly remembered that even his beloved son was beginning to decompose. Splinter grimaced as he gently tugged away at the knot that kept the mask tethered to his son's face. The cloth slithered away, and fluttered through his fingers like a dying butterfly. Splinter stared at his dead son's face and clapped a paw over his mouth to spare his living sons from the rising shriek that falted to a sob. His beloved son's face was still intact, but...Splinter shuddered, as he shook his head and retied the mask with as much haste and care his shaking fingers would allow. Bruises. Withered, molted purple from the pooling around Michaelangelo's slammed shut eyes, the edges of his mouth.

And when he exhaled to keep from sliding to the floor in grief, the sickly sweet scent of decay hit him like an unexpect fist.

"Decay." He thought, numbly. "My son's flesh is decaying."

Splinter made no attempt to stop the trickle of the tears, or the trembling. He couldn't. His soul fractured, as he put his paws to his eyes and scrubbed away the blur, trying and failing to regain his crumbling self-control. His living three sons needed him. His dead son would hate these tears.

It did nothing to stop the old rat's silent weeping. Lurching forward, he clutched at Mikey's cold, slack hand, wrapped between his paws.

April couldn't stop the sense of guilt as she put away the last frozen pizza into the ancient freezer, and stared at the empty kitchen. She had spent most of the afternoon in town, buying enough groceries and supplies to feed them all. After putting the milk in the fridge, she sighed, shut the fridge and turned to face the silence. It was so eerie and so wrong. Normally, the turtles would be merrily lounging in the make shift living room, warring over the remote and playfully griping over the limited, static-ladden channels of the televison. Splinter would sojourn out to the wilderness and return after his long walks, serene and unhindered as usual. And Casey would be either out tinkering with one of the rusted wrecks housed in the machine shed, or on a beer run.

Now, one turtle lay dead in the sun room, Casey had gone to God only knew, and the rest of the fractured family was out planning Michelangelo's funeral.

Mikey's funeral.

April bit her lip. She had no idea what they had planned for a funeral, so she was extremely uncertain now as to what would help and what would wound. God help her, she didn't want to make this worse for them.

She wasn't sure how they felt about flowers, but all funerals she had been to had some sort of floral arrangement. She set the two vases out, filled them with water. Maybe it was a stupid idea, but she hoped that they got some comfort from it. Carefully, she slid the bright sunflower into the largest vase first. It was the closest shade she could find to match Mikey's mask. A few hydrangeas in the muted blue of Leo's mask. Dark purple irises for Don. Blood red carnations for Raphael, since roses were probably too girly for his tastes. For Splinter, she chose white, and bought enough of the white lillies to enclose the rest of the flowers in a serene, protective circle.

She set aside the white scented candles, intending to give them to Splinter to burn as he wanted or not. And then, she carefully slid the silver frames from their plastic and placed them on the counter with reverence. She understood, and respected their aversion to being seen, let alone photographed. She had never shown the pictures to a living soul and kept them locked up, intending, and forgetting to hand them over from the years gone by.

It was a scant collection, true. No more than five. Were they an ordinary family, they would have walls filled with frames of their existance. Happy photos, taken from birthdays, holidays, or just documenting the transition from cherished infant to adult. April shook her head at the sense of loss. They weren't even allowed that.

Raphael 


	15. Bitter

An extra long chapter to compensate for my lack of updates. Vigil is next. God bless

Casey grunted as he hammered together the last nail to the plank of wood, and stared, dubiously at the "casket" he had cobbled together-literally. He recoiled when he saw Raphael's anguish about burying his younger sibling "with nothin' but sheets...he deserved better.' And then Casey felt like he had been punched in the gut after Raphael started weeping.

Crying. Raphael was crying. It wasn't the weeping hysterics, or animalistic wailing. No, it was just his eyes welling up, and watering, an embarrassed thumb scrubbing over an eyelid, as Raph ducked his head to hide the tears. Somehow, that just made it worse.

Casey felt sick, and helpless, unsure if it was better to ignore the waterworks, or somehow offer comfort.

Completely flummoxed, Casey gave what pathetic comfort he could-a pat on the shell, an uncertain offer to listen.

Raphael had swallowed back the sobbing in a matter of seconds. He scrubbed his cheeks raw, as if he could claw away the weakness, and only glared back at Casey, rigidly.

"I'm alright, Case. And even if I ain't, I can't just sit on my ass and cry. What would be the point? It ain't gonna bring Mikey back."

And with that curt dismissal, Raphael shrugged, and continued, bitterly. "Besides, me and Leo and Don are gonna be busy. We gotta dig his grave."

Casey inwardly recoiled. "You need any help?"

Raphael shook his head, drew a steadying breath. He blinked back new tears that Casey tactfully ignored.

"No. This...this is the last thing that me and my brothers will be doin' for Mikey. And it should be just us doin' it."

Casey only clapped a hand on his shoulder. "I get it."

Raphael nodded his thanks, and did not shrug off the hand.

Uncharacteristically, Raphael lingered, as he rose, and faced Casey. Awkwardly, he gestured and grimaced. "Look. You and April...we wouldn't be gettin' through this without ya."

Casey only nodded. "We're here for you, man. If you need something, just ask."

Raphael's mouth quirked. "Thanks. You've been a pal through this."

And he was gone before Casey could answer.

Casey did not know how long he had stared at the empty walls after Raph had drifted away. He sat back, rubbed a hand over his temples. True, he and Mike never had much contact with each other, but he considered him a pal. And in a short time, his brothers would be burying him.

Casey grunted as he rocked himself to his feet, and slid the van keys in his pocket. There was one damn thing he could do to make this better.

Now, Casey had wiled away the last hours hammering together the pieces of plywood and pine into what resembled a large, crude toy chest. Hell, he was no carpenter, and this piece of crap he had created definitely showed it. It would have been hilarious if the alternative would have something less wrong than Mikey being laid to rest with nothing more than dirt. He had sawed the planks and nailed them together to form the box, and sanded away what he could. He had sanded the insides until they were fairly smooth. It had been more of an undertaking to put the lid on. He attached the largest piece of piece of wood on the inside with the steel hinges he had screwed in place. Casey carefully lowered the lid in place and raised it a few times to see if it would hold. Casey sat back, wiping more sweat away and staring down at it, with a grimace. It was nothing but scrap wood nailed together over the course of a day.

Casey groaned as he rose from his knees, and winced as he rolled his shoulders. Leaving his work, he languidly made his way to the farmhouse.

The kitchen was bright and airy.

He found April flitting around like a broken-winged bird, frantically attempting to land on something solid. She told him that the turtles had yet to return and Splinter was still keeping vigil in the sun room. The late summer sun did nothing to bring warmth to the familiar kitchen, as she continued her fretting pace. Casey watched with wry amusement as she littered the counter with bread, and condiments. She was trying to make lunch for them all. It was an odd bit of normalacy in hell.

She greeted him with a wan smile, and gestured towards the bread. "Sandwich?"

"Don't worry about it. I can make my own."

She tilted her head. "Let me. I need to do something." She paused, and when he nodded, she stacked the slabs of bread high with turkey, Swiss, ham, and a blob of mustard, before dribbling chips on the side.

"How you holding out, babe? You alright?"

April shrugged. "It just doesn't seem real. I can't believe that Mikey is dead." She sighed, and raised her troubled eyes to the window, to stare out at the sun glowing fire across the barbed wire fence. "I'm scared, Casey. Not just for me, but for all of us. I mean...what happens now? What happens when this becomes real?"

Casey ruefully gathered her in his arms, buried his cheek in the familiar tossle of red hair and breathed her in.

"I don't know, babe. Sorry, but I don't know."

The water dribbled through his clenched fingers like tears as Splinter finished wringing out the wash cloth. The familiar scent of incense made some of the task bearable. It smelled like home. Gently, as if touching something sacred, Splinter ghosted Michelangelo's cold forehead with the cloth. It was an old, cherished relic of a kinder time, now. With renewed pain, Splinter recalled the many times he had smoothed a feverish forehead, kept a fretting vigil through many childhood illnesses. How many nights had Splinter spent nursing his son through injury, wound, or even a nightmare?

Splinter squelched the rising sob, but could not stop his trembling. With infinite care, Splinter paused to tenderly run a thumb over Michelangelo's left eye ridge.  
The flesh was icy and smooth under his palm, except for the faint scar that started from the corner of his eye and arched downward towards his ear. The old wound had been from a katana slice that could have taken his head off, were it not for the grace of God and his catlike reflexes. He sighed, and allowed his paw to halt at Michelangelo's jaw line. Michelangelo's still lips had withered a bit, but they were curled upward in the peaceful grin. Splinter took a perverse solace in that. His bright, spirited son would have wanted to be remembered smiling.

Sighing, Splinter raised Michelangelo's left arm, wincing as the limb flopped back to the table with a thud. His son's arm was flaccid, the fingers landing open like a crushed spider.

That was when Splinter crumbled completely. Moments before, Splinter had been mercifully detached from the fact that he was bathing his dead son's corpse. And now...

Splinter dully noted the heavy wall at his spine as his legs folded and he slid to the floor. The tears errupted, without permission, without control.

"Michelangelo.." The broken words were mangled by the sob as Splinter cupped his forehead in his hands and wept.

"My son...I have lost my son..." Splinter whispered hoarsely. The grief flooded like a river undammed, as he shoved his palms to his eyes and felt the wet gliding over his skin.

He did not know how long he had sat, sprawled over floor and wall, but when the sob grew to the heaving chokes for air, he felt brittle and somehow cleansed. The overwhelming agony had dulled to a nearly bearable pain. Splinter slowly rose from the floor, picked up a dry cloth and took great care in wiping away all traces of hysterics. Weeping certainly had its place, but it would not do for any of his fractured family to see him lose control again. Michelangelo would not want his father enslaved to grief, and his living sons needed him, more than ever. Drawing strength from that thought, Splinter resolutely finished washing Michelangelo.

And afterward, Splinter perched in the ancient wooden chair, gripped Michelangelo's slack cold hand.

"I do not know if you can hear me, my son. I know it would pierce your soul to see us so broken. Your brothers are suffering so very much.." Splinter shuddered, but forced himself to continue, "and though it grieves my heart, I do not know how to help them heal. And my own heart is heavy with sorrow, Michelangelo. No father expects to outlive his beloved child. No father should have to bury his son."

He wiped away new tears, but curled Mikey's fingers in his own. "Forgive me my tears. I do not yet know where I will find the strength to care for your brothers during this time, but I promise that I will try. As your father, you have made me very proud. I will always love you, Michelangelo. And until the time when we are yet again together, rest for now, my son. My brave, precious son."

And for one fleeting moment, Splinter could have sworn he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and a whisper of bright laughter flickering like light upon water in his soul.

The bright flare of Mikey's bandana lay out on the lone table in the room, along with his beloved nunchucks, and the few precious relics that they had brought with them. The table had turned into an inpromtu shrine for Michelangelo.


	16. The Grave

The grave, Leo, mused numbly, looked like an unhealed wound to the earth. The hole lay huge and empty compared to the grass and flowers at its edges. Sore from shoveling,. Leo winced at the ache in in his shoulders. It was annoying, but a bitterly small thing to worry about now. As physically taxing as it was to dig Mikey's resting place from the ground, Leo preferred the exhaustion and activity over simply brooding and waiting.

They had been in the vacant field since the wanning light of dawn. Raphael had greeted Leo and Don with a curt "Mornin',' and a crudely laid out breakfast of toast and bad coffee. Don was too polite to comment, and Leo merely scraped enough jelly over the bread to make it edible. Somehow, the thoughtful gesture of Raph making breakfast for them was more troubling than if Raphael had just stayed in his room and appeared at his leisure. Leo inwardly sighed. It was just one more thing that had become wrong since Mikey's death.

Donny gently thanked Raphael, and rose to wash his dishes. Raphael just shrugged, sighed, and folded his arms. "Casey got us shovels. We diggin' Mikey's grave, or not?"

Leo flinched at the blunt question, as Don answered, calmly, "It has to be done. And we'd be better off doing that much physical labor before it gets hot."

Raphael glared at Leo when he didn't answer immediately. "Fearless? Ya comin'?"

Another flinch as Leo swallowed hard and answered softly, "Of course. We...it's the last thing that we can do for Mikey."

Raphael's glare softened at that. "Don? You remember where this is supposed to be?"

Don nodded, and pointed. "It's not very far from here...and it's well-hidden. Nobody would be able to find it unless they already knew about it."

The burial site itself was all that Don had promised. A half-hour's walk from the farmhouse through the thick groves of trees. The morning was cool, and the air was filled with birdsong. Were the task not so hellish, Leo would have enjoyed the peace. Raphael was silently trudging through the woods and occasionally swatting irritably at a bug.

Don stopped, pointed, and only whispered, "We're here."

The place itself was a rather large forest clearing, almost circular, and soaked gold from the sunlight. Rather than the shadow of trees, there was only a wide, flat place of bare grass, and a scattering of wild flowers. Leo looked around, warily. It was isolated, and even if somebody did come here, there would be nothing to see but grass and bright sky overhead. Mikey would be able to rest in peace.

Donny, ever detail oriented, had carefully paced through the grass, calculating the length of the trench and marking the four corners with sticks jabbed into the dirt. In the end, the area was large enough for all three to stand in without touching.

The digging itself had taken several hours. The three spent those hours in silence except for the occasional grunt and the clanging of shovels. Leo shook his head, sadly, remembering.

Raphael had stared at the ground for a long moment, silent and shaking. Abruptly, he gently shoved both of his brothers aside, and nearly pounced onto the dirt.

"I got this."

It was snarled or sobbed through gritted teeth.

Raphael welded the shovel like a weapon, and stabbed it deep into the earth.

The scream tore from his throat as he wrestled the shovel free. Trembling, he raised it high, and rammed it deeper, as if he were plunging it into the gut of an enemy.

Numbly, Leo watched as Raphael roared, and plunged the shove back down, with a frenzy borne from hysterical grief.

Clang, scrape, scream, as the dirt was slung and Raphael finally fractured. He only paused to scrub the tears away. He never looked at his brothers.

Donny started forward with a whimper, hands out to stop Raphael's rampage. Leo gently, but firmly halted him with a hand on his shoulder, and a final shake of his head. At Don's small whine of protest, Leo only answered, quietly, "He needs this, Don. He has to let it out."

Don sighed, troubled, but nodded with sad acceptance. He could only hope that when Raph broke, they could piece him back together. If they lost anybody else...  
Don forced the tortured thought away.

Raphael thought he had one hell of a pathetic choice. Anger as a distraction, or facing the soul shattering loss of Mikey. Raphael halted, rigid and seething for a moment. Anger, at least was as familiar as a beloved friend. Here, it provided a blessed refuge, a fight, a point. It gave him strength to carry his brothers through when they were broken and weeping. Raphael preferred the savage burn of rage through his veins to the gnawing abyss of loss. Anger numbed the pain with something more familiar than saying good-bye to a loved one. Raphael clung to his anger, now, held it close to his heart, used it as a bitter shield.

Taking a trembling breath, Raphael swallowed back the choke in his throat, and stared, wide-eyed at the hole inches from his feet.

What in the hell was he supposed to do when the anger left him? What on earth was left afterwards?

The anguish lingered at the edge of his thoughts, forcefully shoved aside for a few more precious moments. Raphael knew it was only a matter of time before he collapsed completely. Raphael winced when he considered that. Mikey was always the one who knew how to drag him back from the dark undercurrents that were always churning in his thoughts.

And now, Raphael knew he would drown without him.

Raphael stood at the edge of the grave, his tremble growing to outright quaking.

Raphael felt as if he were standing at the edge of hell and only waiting for the final shove.

He shook his head, bitterly. He knew what would happen, then. He'd shatter. He'd fall apart. He'd-

The sob burbled up like poison, as the shovel slid from his fingers and clattered into the grave. The breath rammed against his teeth as he spasmed, shoulders hitching,  
head bowing as if a boulder had been around his neck.

The tears rose, as he rammed frantic fists to eyes and mouth, trying to squelch the sudden wet that was leaking down his cheek.

He scrubbed his face, and didn't collapse as he hastily glanced over his shoulder. Leo and Don were standing at a respectful distance, having a quiet and worried conversation.

The shovel winked like a fallen star in the grave. Grunting, he hefted himself to the edge of the grave to retrieve the shovel.

Raphael would never know if the soil was too loose, or if he had simply overbalanced. All he knew was that one moment, he was standing, and the next, he was toppling.

He shrieked as he tumbled over the edge, and fell. Soil slithered through his groping hands and the shovel clanged like a struck anvil when it collided with his shell.  
Sprawled and stunned, he stared dumbly at the bright shard of sky above. Panic and animal instinct took over as he tried to claw his way upright. The soil was too soft for any sort of purchase. He fell back down, buried his face in his dirt-smeared palms, and wailed.

Don pivoted towards the shrill, wounded sound, and Leo stared, wide-eyed with shock. Another scream, dribbling off to sobbing.

Leo bolted towards the rending cries so fast that he almost fell in himself. From his side, Don only breathed out, "Raph...oh, no..."

Raphael was still, with his knees folded over his plastron, and his hands latched over his legs. He was staring blankly at the dirt around him, frozen and quaking. Raph paid no heed to the tears running down his face, or his brothers' frantic attempts to help.

"Raph, are you hurt? Do you need help in getting out?" Don tilted his head, uncertainly. Raphael didn't answer, but he started to tremble again. Raphael didn't seem injured, but why else would he be just sitting in the grave?

Leo sighed, as he touched Don's arm. "I'll get him."

Grunting, Leo crouched downward and landed in the soft dirt. Standing, he worriedly scrutinized Raphael. Raphael had nearly curled into a ball, and made no move to stand, or attempt to get out.

"Raphael?" Leo ventured, fearfully. Raphael finally lurched a bit, and wrenched his neck upward to meet Leo's worried gaze. Something tortured flickered in his eyes, as his lips worked in his teeth. He had gone pale and shaking.

"Raph!" Leo shouted, as he stared down in horror. Raphael had toppled forward, elbows and knees splayed in the dirt. His eyes were huge, glassy and rigid towards something Leo could not see.

Leo knelt in front of him, and rapped a gentle but insistant hand against his shoulder. Raphael made a small choking sound, but nothing more.

Swallowing, Leo forced a calm he didn't feel. "Raph? Are you injured?"

Raphael blinked, then, eyes watering, before he jerked his head sharply.

Leo narrowed his eyes at that, and sighed. He stooped, picked up the shovel, and handed it off to Donny.

"Guys?" From above, Donny was worriedly waiting for both of his brothers to emerge from the grave.

"Don, hold on a minute, please." Leo said quietly, gesturing towards Raphael. Don nodded in gentle understanding, as he edged away a few feet and waited.

"Raph, come on." Leo ordered, as he gave Raphael his best expectantly waiting glare.

Raphael glared back, but leapt out of the hole only to flop into the grass. What in the hell was wrong with his cordination today?

Leo scrambled out shortly after. Don worriedly looked Raphael over, who still looked shaken and nearly sick. Exchanging glances with Leo, he softly suggested,"Maybe we should take a break and get away for at least a moment."

Raphael stiffened and snarled softly.

"Where, Donny? Where in the hell do we go to get away from this?" Raphael hurled the accusation at Don and Leo, as he waited for the answer.

Leo flung his hands out, silent and helpless to provide any answers.

Don patiently answered, "Maybe a breather would be good for all of us, guys."

Raphael raised an eyeridge and smirked bitterly. "This makes no damn sense, you know that? I should be the one layin' in that room, dead. Not Mikey. Not-"

Leo watched as Raphael's face twisted in savage agony. His breath rattled, harsh and brittle as he shoved his palms to his face and choked.

"Not Mikey. Not..not my baby brother." The tears he had held so long suddenly flooded like an undammed river. Leo watched, desolate and stunned, as Raphael crumbled into tears.

Raphael shut his eyes and bowed his head to mask his humiliation at bawling like a smacked kid. He flinched when he felt Leo's warm arms drape over his shoulders,  
but didn't fight the offered comfort of the embrace. Gently, Leo pat his shoulder, and whispered, "It wouldn't matter who, Raph. It would still be hell for those of us left."

Raphael swallowed. "I'd take his place, Leo.I'd take his place!"

Another gently accepting sigh, and a warm palm squeezing his shoulder. "We all would, Raph." Leo said softly.

"Leo." Raphael heaved out the name, as he slumped. "You don't get it, do ya? I ain't nothin' but a selfish bastard. I don't wanna take Mikey's place just to bring him back. I didn't want to be around in case something like this ever happened. I knew I wouldn't get through it, and I ain't."

"There is no getting through this." Don's words were as abrupt as his flopping down to join his brothers. Leo scowled at him. "We have to get through this, Don. We're getting through this now."

Don only gave Leo a patient look of sorrow. "Getting through-" he wagged fingers in the air for quotations, "implies that we're on some journey that has a happy ending. That we're merely enduring a trial with the promise of something better."

His face contorted as he let his arms fall, only to curl around his plastron. "And now, we're all floundering in the dark, and I don't think there's any light left at all. Leo, you really think we're getting through this? There's only three of us, and we're falling apart without Mikey."

"Does Mikey's memory mean anything to you two?" Leo bristled as he abruptly stood up. "If Mikey saw us like this, it would break his heart. Our baby brother was murdered, and from the way you two talk, it would be better for all of us to commit suicide so we can join him! Are you listening to yourselves? There's the grave, and here's my katana."

He snarled as he shoved his blade into the soil at their feet. "If you really want to join Mikey, there's not a damn thing I can do to stop you."

Don looked at Leo in numb, sickened horror, as Raphael recoiled.

Leo's voice was brittle as he shut his eyes. "I'm sorry. That was wrong of me to say. And if either of you were foolish enough to attempt that, I would have stopped you. But we only have two choices. We can either figure out a way to get through this, or we can just throw ourselves in the grave and be done with it. Don, Raph, I love you both. And if I were to lose either one of you..." Leo's eyes flooded as he stooped to carefully recover his katana.

"Listen to me. I know that we're all suffering here, and we don't know what to do. But if, at any time this-" he slid a finger over his sword, "feels like it could ever be an option, please, please talk to me. I don't want either one of you to feel like you're facing this alone, okay?"

He sighed, before he continued. "One day...we'll see Mikey again. And when that day comes, I want to be able to tell him that I lived my life with honor to his memory, that I loved him enough to keep going. It's what he would want us to do."


	17. The LeaveTaking I

Leo eyed what was left of his shattered little family, worriedly. The words were meant to inspire, to lend what pitiful comfort he could, but the attempt had faltered miserably. Raphael only gave him a silent,seething glare, as he knotted his fists in the dirt. Don, if it were possible, wilted even more.

Don gave Leo a forced, sad smile for his efforts. "Thanks, Leo." He whispered, as he braced himself to rise.

Don turned to Raphael, and asked, softly, "Are you alright?"

The question was as timid as if he were approaching a wild animal. Raphael would have normally bristled at the concern,but he only scrubbed the last of the wet from his eyes, and said, gruffly, "Yeah. I just fell. I'm not hurt."

"Are you sure?" Don asked, worriedly, as Raphael exhaled irritably.

"I'm fine, Don! I just fell. You know good and well I've lived through a lot worse than a two foot fall."

Don sighed, and glared at him. "Let me make sure."

"Damn it, Don, I'm-"

"Raph." Don's sharp, quiet snarl brought startled Raphael into silence. "Let me look you over."

Raphael narrowed his eyes as Don folded his arms, waiting.

Leo just shook his head. "You might as well, Raph. Don's not going to let this go."  
Don managed to hide the tremble in his fingers as he gently stretched Raph's arms out, and made him flex his limbs.

Raphael glared, but endured it with nothing more than an irritated huff.

After being reassured that Raphael was a bit bruised, but otherwise unhurt, Don apologetically released him.

"I'm sorry, Raph. It probably was a bit much."

Raphael's irritation softened a bit, as he shook his head.

Unexpectedly, Raphael met Don's gentle, seeking gaze with a rough pat on his shoulder. "Thanks."

Awkwardly, Raph swallowed again, and looked at Leo. "To both of ya."

Leo could not hide the surprise as Raphael shifted, almost embarassed. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say more, but only shut it again.

Another long, bitterly familiar silence, as Raphael huffed and hitched his shoulders. Glaring at the pit, he shook his head. He couldn't stomache the thought of laying Mikey's body in the dirt and just leaving.

Stooping to gather up the shovels, he tossed the words over his shoulder. "I'm goin' to the machine shed. See if there's something I can hit until I feel better. I never thought I'd miss my damn punching bag. ."

Leo nodded, and said, quietly, "I'll see you at the house. I need a bit more time here."

Raphael looked at Don. "What about you? You staying out here longer?"

Don glanced at Leo, who met his concerned gaze, with only a nod and a forced smile. "Go with Raph, Don. I just need a couple of moments to process."

Raphael only shrugged. "Take as long as you need, Fearless. Sometimes bein' alone for a bit can help clear my head."

"I'll go check on April. If either of you need anything..." Don's voice trailed off, as Raphael sighed.

"I'm heading back. You both know where I am if you need me." Raphael hid the trembling in his voice and kept the tears from leaking long enough to turn.  
He had to force himself to slow his pace, to maintain the facade of a pleasant stroll, and nothing more. He couldn't stand staring at that hole any more.

The walk back to the farmhouse was long enough for him to quit blubbering, and short enough to accomodate his exhaustion at digging for so long. The afternoon sun was slowly sliding to evening. Raphael halted in surprise at the machine shed, when he saw the sliver of light behind the door, and the dull thud of hammering.

Sliding the massive door open, silently, Raphael could only stare. Casey was hunched over a large, wooden box, carefully sanding it down. Swearing under his breath, Casey ran palms over the wood, seeking any more rough patches.

Raphael turned towards the hooks nailed into the ancient wood, and hung the shovels up.

Casey jumped at the sudden metallic clang, and his head shot up at the sound.

"Easy, Case. It's just me." Raphael's voice floated out from the dark corner, subdued and quiet.

Casey squinted at the shadows. It was uncanny how Raphael could make himself nearly invisible.

"Hey." Casey nodded in Raph's direction, as he stooped back down to finish his work. He heard Raphael's footsteps from behind as the turtle paused to watch Casey toss the sandpaper.

He heard Raphael's quiet hiss of astonishment, as the turtle ghosted a hand over the lid, eye ridges raised. "Didn't know you were a carpenter."

Casey shrugged in mild amusement. "My old man taught me some. Did some construction work here and there to pay the bills."

"So ya build a box out in the middle of nowhere?"

Casey rose, and and gestured towards the box. "This is for you guys. Uh...for Mikey."

Raphael's scowl deepened, as his eyes slid from the box to Casey. "For Mikey?"

Uneasily, Casey ran his fingers through the mass of dark hair. "Look. I know how pissed you were about burying Mikey without a casket."

Raphael flinched, eyes narrowing. Uncertainly, Casey gestured towards the box. "So, I went ahead and made this for Mikey. Least I could do."

"You...you made my baby brother a coffin?" Raphael's scowl twisted back into his teeth as he stooped and ran shaking fingers over the smooth wood.

Casey nodded. "Mikey deserves at least that much. Hell, you all do. "

Raphael shook his head, as he gently raised the lid and peered inside.

"You don't have to use it, if you don't want it. I just thought that-" Raphael stopped Casey's apologetic stammering with a wry look.

"My brother is gonna be laid to rest in a casket instead of just dirt. Case, you got no idea how-" Raphael teared up and choked it down. He was never good at making pretty speeches, so he settled for grunting out, "Thanks."

Casey smirked in understanding. "Least I could do."

Leo took care to maintain his posture. No defeated slump, no falling to his knees, no sobbing. He made sure to keep his eyes free from tears, his hands free from trembling, and his face its usual mask of serenity. He maintained the facade until he Raphael and Don finally disappeared back into the tree line. He watched, protectively until they were well out of range from being seen or heard, before he allowed himself to fracture.

Burying his hands in his face, he slid down to the dirt, panting and shaking. He thought he might have cried, he thought he might have sobbed. Now, the only thing he wanted to do was curl up in fetal position, howl the soul deep grief from his gut, and wail like a wounded animal. But now, with the grief warring in his gut, he found that his tearless eyes and nearly choking words were too much to voice.

He couldn't cry. He couldn't scream. All he could do was sit at the edge of Mikey's grave in numb, sick silence, and wonder how in the hell he was expected to lay his brother to rest when he couldn't even get up.

The small, keening cry trickled out from his clenched teeth, as he folded his knees to his chest and latched his arms over them. He shut his eyes, trying and failing to control the anguish that roiled in his gut.

"Oh, God-" The choked whisper barely made it past his trembling jaw as Leo started rocking back and forth, an instinctive attempt to sooth himself. It was failing miserably.

"Mikey..." Leo shut his eyes, exhaled a wet snarl though his clogged nostrils. Fingers clawing at the dirt, he folded his legs into the meditative pose, forced himself to breathe through the agony. Meditation had always been a refuge.

He breathed deeply as his heart stopped thundering through his chest and the hysteria trickled away to a more bearable level. Leo only had the tattered shreds to weave together something to hold him through the ocean churning in his thoughts

He waited until he grew calm, once more. But, there was no peace, no deep healing of the wounds. No, just the numb ache where the wild hysterics had been.

Leo willingly accepted it. Allowing his thoughts to finally slow, he straightened from his slump, and adopted the proper meditative stance.

At last, resurected from a lifetime of love, memories, and images, Leo could picture Mikey as he best remembered him.

Mikey's beloved face appeared, as though through smeared glass, blurred at the edges and hardly real. But it was far more soothing than the corpse at the farmhouse.

Mikey, casually lounging in the field of grass, his eyes shut with contentment, smiling at the sunshine. Mikey's bright laughter, echoing from the depths of Leo's soul,  
where he kept his most precious memories. Mikey, flowing like water through another flip, coming to rest with a bow and a quick flicker of his nunchucks.

A thousand memories of moments once so casual and common, and now, infinitely more valuable than all the years Leo had before him.

The silence was unbroken except for the bird song.

"Mikey, I don't know if you can hear me or not..." Leo scrubbed a hand to his aching forehead.

"It should have been me." Leo whispered in soft, anguished anger.

"Little brother, it was never supposed to be like this. I wish to God that you had obeyed orders and stayed back. I wish to God that for once you could have shown some sense and retreated instead of taking that hit for me! Mikey, damn it, you never should have shoved me out of the way! You never should have jumped in like that,  
and you shouldn't be dead!"

The shriek rose and fell as Leo shoved his face in his hands, shaking and struggling to breathe. "The oldest should never have to bury the youngest. It wasn't supposed to be this way and I don't know if I can ever forgive myself. Mikey, I'm so sorry that I failed you. I know that we'll see each other again, but until I do, I have to live through this, and I have no idea how."

Leo wiped away more tears. "But, I promise you, little brother, I'll figure out how. For Raph and Donnie and Master Splinter. Until we're all together again, wait for us.  
Wait for us and watch over us, alright?"


	18. That which stays

_For love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. Song of Solomon 8:6_

There was only brittle silence, broken by the occasional sniffle. The sobbing, and hysterics had been scraped beyond use. In their place was only the numbing indifference. It felt more like death as the hours crawled by. Raphael had given Don a curt, awkward good-bye, as he trotted off towards the barn, muttering something about seeing Casey. Leo had remained behind, at the grave. And Donny, not wishing to disturb either one, finally made his meandering way back to the farmhouse. The old house stood, darkened by the passing cloud, and Don shuddered at the gloaming shadows. The groaning of planks beneath his feet seemed far too loud for the cheer of the early fall afternoon. He paused, turning to see the brilliant fire of the leaves. It was early in the season, but they were adorned with the vivid hues of fall. Normally, he would have reveled at the sight, but now….

Donny sighed. He had to check on Master Splinter. The warm, and welcome scent of something delicious wafted from the kitchen. He heard April vigorously stirring, and the beep of the oven timer. April was apparently making them a late lunch or an early supper. It was a kind gesture. Don made a mental note to tell her so when he was finished with Master Splinter.

He turned back to the room, where Splinter was still holding vigil over Mikey's corpse. Donny sighed again, his sense of guilt and obligation warring with his horror at seeing Mike's body again. Steeling himself, he forced himself to knock, and call, "Master Splinter? Are you alright?"

There was the shuffle of cloth, the clack of cane, and then Splinter's gentle answer, "Please enter, my son. I have not seen you since early this morning."

Donny stepped in the room, carefully closing it behind him. The room was perversely cheerful, warmed from the sunlight that streamed in from the massive windows that faced the woodlands. Normally, it would have felt welcome. Now, it just felt excruciating.

Splinter folded his paws in patient silence.

Bowing to his master, Don carefully scanned the room for the corpse. Noting the sepia drape of sheets in the far corner, he deliberately turned to avoid the torture of long staring. He hadn't seen Mikey's corpse since Raph had lugged into the house.

He didn't want to. He couldn't.

The impromptu morgue was nothing more than a steady folding table. Mikey's body lay in repose, gently draped with a sheet, tucked in at the limbs. The garish pillow-Mikey's favorite, was still tucked around his head. Mercifully, Master Splinter had covered up the face. The bright flare of orange dribbling out over the table, from under the sheet looked odd. Mikey's mask, Don noted, numbly. The mask must have been retied, presumably by Splinter. Donny only looked as long as he could stomach. The sweet smell of incense lingered, along with the alien smell of flowers. Don swallowed back the horrified realization. Master Splinter had apparently bathed Mikey while he and his brothers were out digging his grave. Master Splinter had only bathed them when they were helpless children or temporarily hindered by a wound or illness. Don bit back the unspoken question. If Splinter found solace in it, who was Don to take issue with it?

The scent of flowers was explained by the impromptu shrine that had been set up on the side table. An orange cloth was draped over the dark mahogany. Mikey's beloved nunchucks had been both cleaned and polished, and laid out like a holy relic. The few pictures they had were lovingly grouped in silver frames-April had given them as a gift a few years back. Donny's heart clenched to see the smiling memories, forever encased in glass, and never to be again. In every one of those photos, Mikey was beaming. He turned away before he started bawling. A tall, glass vase stood with a cluster of bright flowers-orange, red, blue, violet, each signifying their masks. Splinter's must have been the tall, white lily. \

April had been an angel to think of it.

"Donatello?" Don flinched at the sudden touch, but Splinter's soft voice and paw stayed some of his trembling.

"I came to see how you were doing, Master Splinter." Don said softly. "Have you been here all morning?"

Splinter hitched his shoulders. "Not the entire morning. I assisted Miss O'Neil with a bit of cooking. Rather, she insisted that I sample the food. I did not feel like eating, but it was very good. Where are your brothers, my son?"

Don hitched his shoulders. "Raphael went off to find Casey and blow off a bit of steam. Leo wanted to be alone for a bit before he came back to the house."

Splinter nodded, understanding. "And, you, my son? Your brothers seem to have found ways of dealing with their grief. Have you done so, Donatello?"

Splinter watched as Don looked down, ashamed. "Master Splinter, I'm afraid."

Splinter tilted his head. "What is causing your fear, Donatello? This is something that has been troubling you for some time."

A brittle sigh, and more tears, as Don rocked back on his haunches, unable to meet Splinter's eyes.

"Donatello." Gentle paws came to rest over his shaking shoulders, and warm fur gathered him close. Instinctively, Don embraced his father, not erupting into sobs, only being held and taking comfort.

Splinter rarely held any of his sons any more. Their hurts and wounds had far surpassed any gentle soothing of a parental touch over a "boo-boo." And yet, Splinter found himself perversely longing for those old times. At one time, he had known how to heal any hurt that his children suffered. Now, Splinter honestly did not know how to lend comfort. He was no longer sure he had any to give.

"What troubles you, my son?"

"I don't know if I can stomach living without Michelangelo, Father. I'm honestly not sure that I can, or that I even want to."

Don cringed, clearly expecting a sharp rebuke or horror at confessing such a dark thought. Splinter shuddered like a willow caught in a storm, shut his eyes, and exhaled for a few moments. Don had seen him do that only when he was extremely exasperated, or emotionally distressed.

Splinter peered into his eyes, searching. "Are these mere thoughts, Donatello?"

Don flushed, and stammered out, "Of course they are, Father! You've lost a son. We've lost a brother. I would never, never put any of you through this again. Not like that."

"You do not intend to harm yourself?"

"No, Father. Of course not. I just…." Don finally turned to stare at the corpse. "At first, I just felt numb. And now, I alternate between feeling empty and having my soul ripped out. And I don't know if this agony is ever, ever going to heal. I don't see how it can, Master. And I know that we cannot go on like this."

Splinter merely gestured for him to sit. Don unfolded his legs, lowered himself, and waited.

"My son, I am grateful for your honesty. I have always taught you to control your reactions to your emotions…not to be afraid of them, or try to deny their existence. That is foolish, as you can no longer deny your emotions than you can deny that you are a turtle. Do you have any memories of your childhood before the encounter with the mutagen?"

Don shook his head. That had been an odd discussion between his brothers-of what life was like when they were nothing more than animals. None of them had retained any memories before the ooze. When pressed for an explanation as to why, Don had merely shrugged, and said it sounded similar to human development. Humans apparently didn't retain any memories of being in the womb, or their infancy. Since he and his brothers were so similar in developing intellectually, he was content to leave it at that.

"Perhaps you are not aware of this, my son, but this is not my first experience with grief."

Splinter's paws knotted into fists within the folds of his robe. "Nor is Michelangelo the first loved one I have lost. Donatello, you recall my master Yoshi?"

Numbly, Don nodded. Splinter had often spoke of his beloved master, canonizing his kindness into folklore. Yoshi's brutal murder had always remained in their family history, as a silent pillar and specter. Don swallowed hard at the horrific realization. Yoshi had been slashed to death in front of Master Splinter….probably at a time when Splinter was not much older or wise than he was now.

"I have told you all the tale of his cruel murder. I see no need to speak on of old pain. I think, however, it may be beneficial for you to know this, Donatello. At the time of Yoshi's passing, I was still a mere rat…an animal only. That being said, I only felt the pain of my ear being sliced, the instinct to flee, the stench of blood, and the overwhelming fear that any rat feels when it is cornered, and in danger of being killed. As a rat, I had no thought, only instinct, and fear. It was only after our transformation and gifting of intellect that I finally and fully understood that I had lost a loved one. It was only after awareness that I felt grief. And it was only in becoming aware of that grief, that I was given a very, very precious gift."

Splinter paused to allow Donatello time, before he continued. "I finally understood that the true cause of such pain is deep grief. And rooted in that deep grief is an even deeper love. Donatello, tell me. Do you believe you will ever stop loving Michelangelo?"

Don just shook his head, as the tears started trickling. Splinter's thumb glided over his cheek, catching them. "We would never feel this grief if we did not love, Donatello. Find comfort in this. Grief eventually stops. But love does not."


	19. Held

Held

So, this is it, then? You both ready? Raphael asked gruffly, with a raised eye arch. Donny sighed gently, and said, quietly, This has to be done. And postponing it won t change that.

At his side, Leo nodded, grimly. Do either of you need more time?

Raphael snorted bitterly at that, Leo, he ain t here any more to chat with. What the hell do we need more time for?

After that curt, wounded silence, Leo only exhaled out, You re right, Raphael. But this is final. And when we his voice broke, as he swallowed hard, when we lay Mikey in that box...

Tears. More hot, betraying tears trickling down his cheek, as he buried his face in his hands. Leo heard Don s small, choked sound, and Raphael s grunt.

I m sorry. Leo whispered, harshly, as he scrubbed away another betraying tear. He heard Raphael's oddly patient sigh, and Don's warm hand on his shoulder.

"Quit apologizing for the blubbering, Leo. If this weren't something to get waterworks over, I don't know what the hell would be." Raph groused out the snarl to mask his own sob, but scrubbed away another tear of his own.

"Guys, how do you want to do this? Do you want me to just pick him up and put him in, or all three of us?" Don's question was met with Leo's brittle gaze, and Raph's scowl.

"Ain't that damn complicated, brainaic. All we're doing is putting Mikey in his coffin." The sick irony of Raphael's blunt statement felt like a punch to the gut.

Leo flinched, and Don grimaced before finally replying, "I'm not trying to overcomplicate things, Raphael. I'm just trying to make sure that we all get the chance to say good-bye properly."

Raphael snorted. The bitter smirk looked like it would fracture as he chuckled, darkly. "Don, when you learn how to do that properly, let me know, eh?"

Leo cleared his throat, for their attention, as he uncrossed the rigid arms on his plastron. Grimly, he met their eyes, and held out both arms. He stared at the corpse draped in the sheets in the corner, before turning back to his living brothers.

"We have to bury Mikey, and soon. And we're also driving ourselves insane with all of these details. I'll put Mikey in the casket, the three of us can carry it to the grave, and we'll hold his memorial as planned. If Master Splinter or Casey and April have any final words, they'll get their chance to speak, then."

His voice quivered, but it held the certainty of long deliberation and obligation. Leo watched as Don looked visibly relieved to see his big brother take some much neede action. Raphael frowned minutely, considering, before he nodded.

"Sounds like a plan, fearless. Let's get to it, then, eh?"

Leo gave them all a curt nod, before forcing himself to pivot. Pausing, he closed his eyes, drew a steadying breath, focusing.

It was so much easier to pretend that he was running through the familiarity of a kata, as he stooped to the level of the table. He slid his arms over, arms gently brushing through the thick padding of blankets and sheets that now served as a death shroud. Though there were probably yards and yards of cloth, he still flinched when he felt the alien, hard curve of shell, the stiffness of limbs that did not yield or curl as he forced himself to carefully scope of Mikey in his arms. The arms, and legs stayed rigidly together and Leo cringed inwardly. Splinter must have either knotted the sheets tight enough to prevent any limbs from dangling free,  
or the corpse was stiff. Leo didn't know. He didn't want to know.

Hefting his little brother up from the table, Leo paused to balance, and carefully shifted the weight.

Vaguely, he heard his brothers following behind, as he slowly walked out of the room, past the bright halls, past the shadows at his back, and towards the slant of light in the wan window.

Casey stared dully at the casket he had discretely hauled to the porch, and then dumped at the steps. The lid was propped up by the faded side of the wall, waiting.  
At his side, April sniffled, and clutched the trembling flowers. She stiffened in surprise to feel his arm tentatively drape over her shoulder, but she leaned into his embrace with a grateful sigh.

So much grief, and so much love. Strange how the two felt so very much the same. He buried his face into the mass of red hair, inhaling the scent of rose-scented shampoo and Ivory soap. For a moment, it felt like home.

Splinter had lined the casket by folding Mikey's garish orange quilt and setting it in the bottom. Casey raised an eyebrow and merely watched as the old rat caressed the lid, and muttering something that sounded like a lullaby or a prayer.

The screen door groaned open, as Don silently stepped out. He looked solemn, but resolute, a he gestured towards the house. He gave them all a withered, polite smile.  
"Master Splinter, we're..ready." He finished awkwardly.

Splinter sighed, heavily, as he bowed his tired head. Wearily, he shuffled to face Casey and April.

"I wish to express my gratitude to you both for all that you have done for myself and my sons. Though our grief is great, you have suffered along with us, and for this,  
I am proud to call you family. I hope that you will join us in honoring the memory of my son, Michelangelo."

He graced them each with a gnarled paw clasped briefly over their shoulders. "Donatello, my son, please inform your brothers that it is time."

"Yes, sensai." Don whispered, as he went back into the house.

The gloaming light swelled gold over the wood, as Donny silently passed through the small sitting room. Leo was stoic, duty-bound, and ever so careful, as he gently shifted Mikey's body. Raphael was uselessly fiddling with the blankets, tucking them over Mikey's shoulder, then scowling as he finally hitched his shoulders in resignation.

His eyes flickered to Don's as Don awkwardly waved towards to the door. "They're waiting."

"Let's go." Leo tried and failed to keep the trembling out of his voice, as Raphael only shook his head with a sad, amused snort.

He made no attempt to touch Mikey, share the burden, or carry the body. This was the last thing that Leo could do for Mikey, and hell if he would take that away.

Leo did his damnest to keep his footsteps steady, the trembling to a minimum, the sobs choked to silence, and the grief from shattering him. He cradled the still body,  
waited patiently for Don to shove the door open, and quietly strode through.

From behind, Raphael lingered for a moment, before joining his brothers on the porch. Leo swallowed hard, staring down at that empty casket that stood open and waiting for his brother's corpse. The sheets were garish and soft. All wrong. This was so damn wrong.

Leo abruptly halted, shaking and sick at the thought of lowering. Swallowing hard, he shut his eyes, and desperately scraped together the strength to force his arms to unfurl from their wrenching grip.

He heard his very bones creak in protest, as he kneeled before his knees collapsed. He eased his brother down, laying him to rest with the same regard and tenderness that he had once used in putting Mikey to bed.

His hands trembled as he lay Mikey's head on the pillow, slid the sheets around so they covered him completely. Leo smoothed the sheets with a palm, fingers gracing the mask's tail. He curled it between his fingers, before carefully laying them out to spill brightly over the pillow.

Raphael knelt beside the casket, and pat the back of Mikey's cold hand. He choked out, hoarsely, "So, this is it. We love ya, Mikey. We love you so damn much. We'll see you again. But until we do, rest easy, little brother. And wait for us, alright?"


	20. Mikey's Last Words, Part I

Raphael knelt beside the casket, and pat the back of Mikey's cold hand. He choked out, hoarsely, "So, this is it. We love ya, Mikey. We love you so damn much. We'll see you again. But until we do, rest easy, little brother. And wait for us, alright?"

He laced his fingers over the cold hand , and forced Mikey's slack fingers to bend around his own. Raphael teared up again as he clutched the flaccid hand to his chest, and held it over his beating heart, unable to surrender it to the casket just yet. His eyes flooded, as he choked back more sobs and snot, and for once, didn't give a damn how weak he looked.

"I love ya, little brother. I love ya, Mikey. And I'm so damn sorry that it ended like this."

It wasn't a eulogy. It was just words, slid out by tears, ripped up from his gut, and burning like acid against his trembling, ravaged soul.

At his side, Raphael felt both of his brothers laying their shaking hands over his hitching shoulders, offering what pathetic reassurance they could. Normally, he would have shrugged off anguish, ignored the wounds, and snarl at them.

But this….this hurt so damn much. It felt like straddling hell, as Raphael blearily wondered for an insane moment if it would be worse to plunge the sai straight through his gut and join his dead brother, or fall back and stay with the living ones. And he squelched the tortured impulse when he saw the grief in their faces. It was too much to bury one brother and son. Damned if he would deliberately put them through this a second time.

Raphael felt the warm fur against his skin as Splinter encircled his hand.

"My son." Splinter whispered gently, through his own tears. "It is time to let Michelangelo go."

Raphael shut his eyes, and trembled against him, as he grit his teeth, and surrendered Mikey's hand to rest on the sheets. He felt Leo's arms around him, crushing him in a fierce, desperate embrace. Hell, Leo was clutching at both his brothers as if he were drowning. Raph heard Don's shuddering breath, the gentle, almost timid arms gripping him and Leo. He was silently weeping, and made no attempt to brush away the tears.

So much damn crying. Through the blurred smear, Raph saw April weeping as she lay the cluster of flowers by Mikey's pillow. She accepted Casey's embrace, and raised her burning eyes to Splinter. Swallowing hard, she cleared her throat.

Uneasily, she stepped forward, warring between being more intrusive or comforting, as she timidly cleared her throat and waited for their attention.

"Master Splinter? Guys?" She sniffled as she carefully fished out the envelope from her coat pocket. Looking at them all uncertainly, she held it out towards Splinter. The old rat's eyes flickered when he saw Michelangelo's unmistakable scrawl on the envelope.

"Miss O'Neil? What is this?"

April swallowed hard. "This is from Mikey."

"April, what the hell? Our dead brother gives you a letter,and ya just now think that we may want to read the damn thing?" Raphael bellowed, enraged as he stomped towards her, eyes narrowed, and lips curled into the snarl.

She yelped in surprise as he suddenly tore it from her hands, with a glare, and eyed it, suspiciously.

Casey snarled, and stepped between them, protectively.

"Raphael, you will not treat Miss O'Neil with this disrespect."

Splinter's rebuke was softly spoken, but soft as a whiplash. Raphael felt the guilt slither through him, when he finally forced himself to look at April. She was wilted and trembling, her eyes wide with fear. Casey was giving him a look that could scour paint from concrete, as he wrapped his arms around her and tensed.

Whatever anger Raphael had dissolved, as quickly as vapor, only leaving him with the sick realization at how much the grief had messed with his head. What the hell was wrong with him, charging at April like a pissed bull, and scaring her like that?

"April, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to go off on you like that."

Her mouth quirked. "And I'm sorry, too, Raph. I should have given this to you all sooner."

Raphael held the envelope out to Splinter. The old rat numbly accepted it, and carefully turned it over, running a paw over where Mikey had scribbled his name.

"When did Mikey give this to you?" Don asked, quietly.

"He gave it to me less than a week before he died. It..." she blanched, but forced herself to continue, "It was like he knew."

There was only that stunned silence that fractured when Leo marched forward, and lay both hands on her shoulders. "April." His resolve for answers was as fixed as concrete.

"How was he when he gave this to you? Did he say anything?"

The smile wilted, as she hitched her shoulders.

"It was one of those days where Mikey came over because he was driving you guys crazy at the Lair. It was really strange, actually. He asked if we could talk, and then I asked him if he had something on his mind. He looked really sad, and serious, and he told me that he had been thinking about things, lately. That he thought that life only lasted a little while. I asked him if everything was alright, and he told me he was okay. And then he asked me to give you guys this in case anything ever happened. And I promised him I would, if he would do everything he could do to make sure it was never necessary. And then he hugged me and went back to goofing off like he normally did. I'm so sorry that I didn't say anything before this. I honestly thought….that it wouldn't ever be necessary."

"Was he scared?" Don's soft question was as brittle as fracturing glass. April looked troubled, and slowly shook her head.

"He wasn't afraid." She whispered, choking back a sob. "He wasn't afraid, or scared, or really worried about anything except how you guys would be. But, mostly, he seemed resigned, and at peace."

Splinter lurched towards her, in tears, as he lay a paw on her hand. "Miss O'Neil, I cannot thank you enough for being so kind to Michelangelo during that painful time. I cannot repay you enough for allowing my son a measure of peace that we were unable to grant him."

He took the precious envelope, and very carefully eased it open, to reveal a few sheets of notebook paper, folded into a tight bundle.

He unfolded the papers, lay them flat on the side table, and smoothed them flat with a palm. After a few moments of reading, he gave his sons a tolerant, sad smile, as they hovered over his shoulder.

"It seems that Michelangelo has written each of you a letter, my sons."

Don stared numbly at the paper that trembled in his fingers and watched as Leo accepted his own sheet in shock. Raphael nearly snatched his, eyes flickering over the ink, as he shook his head.

Looking at April, he gave her that bitter, sad smirk, as he held out a folded piece of paper that slid free.

"This is to you, and Casey. And from the looks of it…yeah. My baby brother knew he was gonna die."

_Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. The letters will be covered in the next chapter._


	21. Last Words: Raphael

Author's Note: In this chapter, I wrote about death in a very generic sense, because the focus here was far more on grief than the matters of the afterlife. That being said, this is not necessarily a religious fic, even though it is written by a religious person. I know that there are many who fear death, avoid thinking about it, or spend their lives trying to distract themselves from the irrevocable fact that one day, they will die as well. The fact is, I will be spending far more time on the other side of the sky far more than I will be spending down here, and I only know this because I trust Christ. That peace is available to anybody who asks for it. That being said, on with the fic….

Raphael eyed Mikey's scrawl, his heart clenching. He ran his eyes and fingers over the swirling penmanship, the oddly legible script comforting. Mikey had always insisted on the odd loops and swirls of cursive writing. Ghosting a thumb over where Mikey had penned his name, Raphael slowly reread the letter again.

Leave it to Mikey to find a way to comfort him, even now. And bless him for it, God knew Raph needed it _now._

Reverently, he spread the letter out on the table, smoothing it flat with shaking hands, as he swallowed hard. Turning to his living family, he choked, but managed to speak.

"I think…" he paused, voice gruff and on the verge of fracturing. Swallowing again, he plunged on," I think that Mikey would of wanted you guys to hear this."

He felt Splinter's gentle paw over his quaking shoulder, and a quiet whisper. "My son, what Michelangelo wrote in his letter is for you alone. Please do not feel compelled to share that unless you truly wish to."

Raphael shrugged. "There's some things that Mikey wrote just to me, but the rest…" he saw Leo's nearly pleading expression, and Don's crumbling into yet more tears. Hell, anything their brother left behind was sacred now.

Grunting, Raphael finally rose from his slump against the wall. And then, he carefully gathered up the letter and turned away from Mikey's body. It would have been too damn hard to read his brother's last words facing his corpse.

"The rest is for all of us. Not just me." Raphael said, softly, as he cleared his throat. The gentle, expectant hush now filled the room as Raphael hesitated. He had always hated reading out loud, embarrassed at how his thick voice and accent could mangle the most elegant phase into almost grunting. Considering the hell that he and his family had been through over the last week, reading a letter to them was a bitterly small task.

"_Raphael-_

_Well, bro, if you're reading this….first of all, let me say that I'm sorry."_

Raphael halted to cobble together enough strength to force the words out.

"_It's really, really strange, and sad, when I look back on my life…on us, and I see how many times I used that word. I always said sorry for screwing something up, or something else that I never meant to do. Sorry used to be my band-aide that I'd just slap over a mistake, and then expect everything to be okay again. And most of the time, that worked. But, since you're reading this, obviously, 'sorry' can't fix everything. But, it still doesn't change the fact that I'm sorry about leaving you like this, Raph. I am so sorry. For all the fights over the years, for all the times I annoyed you, and acted like a pain in the butt…I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me."_

Raphael's tears trickled as he shook his head with a wet snort. "Damn it, Mikey….."

He scrubbed his face, and continued:

"_Now, that I've got all the mushy stuff out of the way; let me tell you what I'm not sorry for. I don't regret one patrol, one time in the dojo, or one fight on the street. Even when I got hurt, or something bad happened, I always thought it was worth it. Even if we were never seen, or known, we were doing what was right, and that was always enough for me. It had to be. And, even if the final result was me exiting life a bit sooner than we all would have wanted….it was worth it to know that I did some good. _

_I'm not sorry for that can of ooze. You once told me that God has a sense of humor, and I always thought that our existence was proof of that. But, when God makes a family out of two humans, four baby turtles, and a rat, I know God has a good sense of humor. _

_I don't regret being mutated. I used to think what life would have been like without the ooze, and when I think that I could have missed out on you all? That I could have just lived in a little glass bowl, and died a normal death like any other turtle? Somehow, that's far more sad than saying good-bye. Sure, we wouldn't have known any of the 'human stuff,' like grief, or sadness. But that would have meant that we never would have known things like love, or smiles, or even pizza and nun chucks. We would have never become a family. _

_Raph, I know that you're going to take this hard-probably harder than Leo or Don. And I also know you're going to be mad as hell, and tempted to do something that seems like a really good idea, but will wind up hurting everybody else. Bro, I'm asking you from the bottom of my heart: please, please let it go this time. _

Raph's snarled as the letter quaked and the words blurred.

_I'd rather you be there-alive-for Splinter and Leo and Don, than get yourself killed.. It doesn't matter if you kill one, or a dozen, or all of them, Raph. It won't bring me back. It will never bring me back, and it will never be enough. So, Raph, please. Please stay alive and be there for the rest of the family. They're going to need you to get them through this. April and Casey need you. All the people in the future that you'll help and save need you. Remember that, Raph._

_There's a couple of more mushy things that I'll say before I close. Sorry, bro….I know that I said I was through with it before._

_Thanks. Thanks for all the times you saved my life, my butt, my weapons, my head..it's a long list, bro. You know that. Thanks for the late nights when we had our weird talks about life and the big things. Thanks for the times you saved the last piece of pizza, for all the birthdays when you got me comic books, and the times you snuck me a beer.-_

Raph flushed at the last sentence, as Splinter raised an eyebrow.

"You gave alcohol to Michelangelo?"

Raph shrugged, awkwardly, as Splinter's mouth curled into a thin line of understanding.

"Never mind about that now, my son. Continue, please."

Raph heaved an inward sigh of relief, and did so.

_For all the times that I just needed to talk, and you listened, and for the times that you laughed at my jokes, even if they were pathetic. Thanks for all the times you ate my cooking, and said that it didn't taste like complete garbage. And most of all, Raph, thanks for being my big brother. It wasn't always easy, I know. But, I always felt safer, just knowing that you were there to protect me. That was always enough for me. And now, I'm more safe up here than I ever would have been down there._

_Remember this, Raph. One day-hopefully a very long time from now-we'll be together again. But until that day comes, live your life. Enjoy it. Don't spend all your time being pissed at the world. Believe me on this, bro. It's short, and it goes by fast. Don't waste it._

_Finally, bro, believe me when I tell you I'm at peace, and I have no regrets. I didn't have long, but I had enough._

_Love, Mikey.._


	22. The Last Days of Mikey, Part II

_If he had lived, Mikey would have described his last battle as an avalanche. The ambush from the Foot had happened so damn fast, that Mikey had no time to think, no time to cry out a warning, not even time to draw a breath. _

_The terror roiled in his gut as he stared in horror at the trickle of soldiers becoming a flood. Pouring out of the shadows, spilling out from the very bricks themselves, he could only watch, transfixed and nearly stupid with terror. Instinctively, his eyes scraped upward for an escape route of some sort. At his side, Leo's eyes narrowed with icy consideration. Silently, he drew both katana in warning. Giving Raphael a curt nod, he slid himself between the Foot and his brothers, protectively. _

_Raphael snarled, and abruptly shoved both Mikey and a bewildered Donny behind him. Glaring at Leo, he ground out, "Always got to play the hero, Fearless?"_

_Leo grimaced. "The first chance you get, you take Don and Mikey home, Raph. Don't argue with me."_

"_The hell I will." Raphael groused back, as he drew his sais. _

"_Stay behind me. First chance you get, get the hell out of here. Got it?" Raphael growled the order to his younger siblings without a glance backwards._

"_That goes for you, too, Raph." Leo snapped with a shake of his head. _

"_How about we all get the hell out of here when we can, bros?" Mike gave them all an appeasing grin and a clap on their shoulders. Raphael yanked his shoulder free with a grunt._

_Sighing, Leo shook his head. "Now is not the time, Mikey."_

_Donny gently tugged Mikey to his side, and whispered, "There's no point in arguing with them. You know that." _

_Donny scowled unhappily after looking at them all and mentally calculating the odds of an escape without a confrontation. "Besides," He eyed his brothers, worriedly, "It looks like there's more than enough to go around."_

_Ignoring Leo's warning glare, Raphael wagged a sai in mocking invitation._

"_Alright, boys. Let's dance." The words lingered as he suddenly hurled himself like a canon ball head first into the cluster of foot soldiers._

_At that point, all hell had literally broken loose. Raphael roared as he flung himself into the leap. He toppled a few when he landed. Barely lighting the earth with his toes, he spun into the kick and hacked away with his sais. _

_The very air itself seemed to fracture as the world suddenly slid into a hell of frenzied movement, shouts, curses, pain, and absolute chaos. _

"_Stay back! There's too many of them, Raph, we can't-" Leo's words shredded the air, and ended with a scream. _

_One of the Foot had bolted forward and slashed at Leo's shoulder. Leo had dodged sharp enough to save his head from being cleaved from his neck, but not in time to keep the blade from digging into his flesh._

_All was confusion, a snarl, a breath. Leo had struck so fast that Mikey couldn't even make out the killing blow. From the dull gleam of streetlight, all Mikey could see was the curve of Leo's shell, two arcs of light as Leo's katana trailed fire and bore down for the kill._

_The human lay dead at Leo's feet. Leo snarled as he slid one blade free, and slung it back into the gut of yet another Foot soldier. Ignoring the corpse at his feet, he flung the one impaled on his sword to the concrete with a grimace of distaste._

_Mikey heard Donny's soft cursing, the agonized resolve that twisted his features and sent his hands clawing for the bow staff. Gripping the unyielding wood, Donny spun in a low arc, pummeling the skulls of those within reach. Mikey winced when he saw Don's bitter grin at hearing their very bones popping. Frantically spinning, fueled by desperate fear, and growing rage, Don twisted around to keep the precious distance of a few feet between and the thugs as wide as possible. _

_Mikey flipped high, and winced at the snap of his nunchucks against bones. He heard the crack like gunfire, the anguished cries, and his soul quelled to see his own weapons coated in scarlet. He had always hated this, the fear, the pain, the possibilities of injury to himself or his brothers. No time to think about it now. Instincts, long honed by so many nights in the dojo, supplanted any sort of rational thought. Shards of awareness floated through the burned, sweated haze of his narrowed eyes. The fall of another body, the grunt of Raph as he impaled a sai through a shoulder. Light sliding off of weapon, of shell, the flicker of pain, and the trickle of blood dribbling from his shoulder. Dull ache, and fire and murderous rage, storming in his brain with the potency of lava._

_Out of the corner of his eye, Mikey saw the feral grin of one of the soldiers, as he hoisted high the katana. A glint of silver, as he swirled around towards Leo. Leo was quaking, and fighting, heedless of the blade that was seconds away from slicing his neck and probably severing his head._

_The warning couldn't even be choked out, as Mikey shot upward, and deflected the weapon with his own body. He toppled into the man, shell first, sending them both into the sprawl on the concrete. His shell has borne the brunt of impact, and the dull ache reverberated through his side like a struck anvil. Hastily, Mikey clubbed the man into oblivion with an elbow and bounced upward. Staring down at the bloodied, collapsed face, Mikey shivered with horror and scuttled away, numbly. He had never meant to strike that hard. It couldn't be helped now. Bounding like a deer, Mikey eyed Leo's shell with a rueful grimace. Leo was apparently too engrossed in battle to notice his baby brother's heroics._

_Mikey smirked. Oh, well. He would certainly have the time to brag about it after the fight. _

_And afterwards-_

_The blow to the back of his head had literally struck him out of the blue. He only heard the gleeful cackle, and then, the rock, the brick, whatever it was, colliding with his skull. Fracture, the sick sound and feeling of his skull yielding, and denting, and collapsing from the horrific pressure at the back of his neck. Mikey vaguely wondered if the back of his head had crumbled like paper or if it was dented, or if it looked like a cave-in._

_Had it pierced his brain? His body lurched, his knees folded, and he felt himself toppling. He only had time to tilt himself forward so that the brunt of the fall would be on his undamaged face. Scrape of shell against concrete, something warm and red and hot and sticky dripping from his head, into his eyes, sliding over his shoulders, and under his cheek. He sprawled out where he fell, only a few feet away from Don. The concrete felt so cold beneath him, as he instinctively curled and blearily stared upward at the glitter of stars far above the buildings. _

_He should get up. He should go back. He should help them, damn it! He should-_

_He should. But now, he couldn't. Couldn't get his arms to unfold, his legs to stretch, or even get his mouth open to scream. _

"_I'm comin, bros-" His mouth couldn't even choke out the whisper. _

_The tremble reverberated through him, as he shut his eyes and just breathed. The scarlet pool had grown around him, and he couldn't even twist his mask around to staunch the bleeding._

_He wasn't in pain, just quaking and strangely warm, almost too comfortable and numb to trouble himself with opening his eyes again. He was so damn tired, and just wanted to sleep, now._

"_Mikey!" A shriek, hard fingers clawing at his neck and feeling the dull and slowing thud of his pulse._

_Donny. Donny was kneeling over him, helplessly eying the blood, the dent, the odds._

"_Mikey. God, Mikey, stay with me, please! Open your eyes, Mikey! Open your eyes!"_

_The plea was absolutely frantic. Mikey groaned, tried to open his hand, something to let his brother know it was alright, he wasn't hurting, it was going to be alright-_

_And then he felt the cool pavement beneath his palm, the growing puddle of something warm, red, and sticky around him, and he groaned._

_Oh, God-_

_It was instinctive. He didn't know if it was a prayer, if God listened to the prayers of turtles, if it mattered, now. Surely if He was merciful, He'd understand the woozy, broken last thoughts of a dying turtle who was bleeding in a street._

_Surely, after all that had happened, and all the good that Mikey had tried to do, God would hear him out._

_And now…_

_Oh, God-_

_Donny's face rippled into view, as he slid to his knees, and cradled Mikey's battered head between his palms and cushioned him on his thighs. Mikey wanted to cry out at the sudden lurch that tilted the world and made the pain shoot from his busted head to his crippled neck._

_It was nothing more than a nod. It should not feel like somebody was shoving a spear through the base of his neck, should it? The pain stopped abruptly, and Mikey felt Donny's shaking, scared fingers groping through the tatters of flesh, through the slick gore of of blood and bone to see at last, the fatal blow._

"_Guys! We need to get Mikey home! Please!"_

_The fear in Donny's voice erased any lingering doubt. It was a brittle confirmation of what Mikey had already figured out. He was dying. He was dying, it was soon, and he sure as hell didn't want to die in this alleyway. _

_Alright, then. Breathing. Keep breathing, Mikey. Keep breathing long enough to say good-bye. Keep breathing long enough to let your brothers drag your ass home, alive, and not your dead corpse. That's the last parting gift you can give them. Peace that they were with you. A chance to say good-bye._

_Mikey couldn't even get his hand to squeeze Don's fingers in reassurance. All he could do was linger here, in this weird, torpid place between living and dying. Mikey knew that he was sliding ever closer to the dying part. The hell with it, he had to stay long enough to make it back home. _

_God-_

_His breath, and prayer burbled out over the bile in his throat. _

_God-_

_This dying thing sucks. Please, don't let it be here. Please let me last long enough to make it home. Please don't let the last thing I see is the Foot. Please don't let the last thing I feel to be this concrete and this blood and this hurt. Please don't let me end __**here.**_

_Donny was on the verge of hysterics, as he grimly examined the wound._

"_Mikey, hold on! Please, hang on!"_

_Mikey would have given his nunchucks and everything else he had if he could have answered his brother back. _

_Donny was babbling orders, in a steady, confusing, but comfortingly familiar stream to his brothers. Mikey heard the loud crack of wood being splintered, the clunk of a board being dropped at his side._

_Hands. Gentling hands, touching him as if he were a holy relic. The thick, quaking grip of one of his brothers as he threaded their fingers together in a knot. Solid, reassuring. Mikey didn't know who held him, and no longer cared. His brothers were here. _

_He felt himself being lifted and quickly laid down on the wood, splinters digging into his feet that dangled off the sides and swung into oblivion. He felt Raph's shoulder against his hand, as they balanced him between the three. And suddenly, they were flying. The stars, and the street lights blurred, and then flickered out of view as he heard the clang of the sewer lid being yanked off and tossed aside. It clattered away unseen, as Don cradled Mikey's head, to keep him steady._

_He was carefully eased down into the comforting dark, the cool, acrid must of the sewer tunnels as his brothers gathered him up again and sprinted onward. _

_Sheets. He was lowered into a pile of sheets, that cocooned over his limbs. Both of his hands held, as he heard his brothers hustling around. _

_A sliver of a voice, as Donny ordered Raph to take Leo out of the room. Leo's bewildered objection, and the startled yelp as Raph grunted, grabbed his older brother, and nearly kicked him through the door._

_Splinter's soft, reassuring voice, as a gentle, furred paw caressed his bloodied forehead, and graced his temples with sorrow._

"_My son. Stay with us, my son. Please."_

_Mikey had never heard Splinter plead for anything before, and now-_

_It no longer mattered if there were only a few inches of distance or the abyss between them. Mikey could no longer reach them. He was sorry, he was so sorry, for the tears, and the agony, and he'd take it all back if he could but-_

_The thoughts tumbled through his aching skull, and he noted with annoyance the strange flicker of metal against his skin. Don was stitching up his head, he realized, vaguely. _

_Tears. Tears were sliding down Don's cheek as he carefully knotted off the thread, swabbed more disinfectant over the wound,and wrapped his head with the sterile bandage._

_More tears in Splinter's eyes, as Don grabbed Mikey's slack hand and clutched it between his own. Donny's eyes, bright and fragmented and flooding over as he helplessly whimpered and crumbled into Splinter's steadying, waiting arms._

"_Father-" It was choked with sobs and almost too mangled by the snot and the tears and the hideous truth to make it out of Don's clenched teeth._

_Splinter's agonized acceptance, and that bowing of his head as he swept fingers over his beloved youngest son._

"_How long, Donatello?"_

_A tortured lurch of shoulders, because Don was too stricken to speak coherently. Splinter watched as his most intelligent son collapsed, only able to wave a hand over Mikey's still body, and quake even more._

"_I don't know." Don whispered. _

_Splinter sighed, as the tears rose and were squelched by the shudder. Very gently, he tilted Mikey's head to stare down at the stitched up slash with another shake of his head. Laying Mikey's head back on the pillow, he rose._

"_Michelangelo will not last the night." Don's tortured whimper, and the brittle shake of his head was more than enough to tell Splinter the truth._

_Vaguely, Mikey could sense their sorrow, but was far too comfortable in the velvet dark to do more than linger. If he could, he would have wrapped his fingers around Splinter's, hug Don, apologize. He would have said his "love yous," and "bye-byes" and whatever else the hell a turtle on his death bed was supposed to say to give them peace._

_Now, the memories rose up like old ghosts from the graves, warm and welcome and bittersweet. He no longer had thoughts but impressions, of April's red hair spilling out from her bun in the cheery kitchen not too long ago. Had it only been three days since she had seen him? She'd remember his letters, right? An argument over pizza, hugging Raph and darting away from the sarcasm, Leo's lecture, Don's quiet peace, laughter, his brothers and his father, all together and safe and home. His family was safe. That was all that mattered now._

_Time. Mikey heaved out another shallow breath. Breathing was becoming more and more of a chore, and he knew that he wouldn't need to keep it up. The instinct to simply stop was so much stronger now, and staying in this busted wreck of a body was getting harder and harder to do. _

_Time. He had to wait. He owed them that. Hell, he owed them everything, but all he could give them now was a few more moments. The last of his life. He hoped it was some sort of compensation, however sad it may be._

_Splinter's paw was still rubbing over his temple. He heard the footsteps and the sobs as Raphael lumbered up to his side, yanked his hands up from the sheets, and whispered something. Mikey couldn't make out the words, but the sorrow was unmistakable as Raph squeezed his hand, and held it._

_Leo's grip. He knew it from the quiet, steadying touch, and the vague snatch of blue against his shoulder._

_Donny was holding his other hand, gentle, and calming, and tethering. Mikey wanted to thank him for trying to save him. He hoped that Don could somehow sense it._

"_I love you, baby brother. I love you, and I'm so damn sorry that it's endin' like this." _

"_We're only saying good-bye for now, Mikey. Wait for us. Wait for us and watch for us. I promise to do the best I can for our brothers until we're together again. I promise."_

"_We love you, Mikey. We love you, and we'll miss you until we're together again. We're going to be okay. You don't need to worry about us."_

"_I love you, Michelangelo. You have fought hard, and you have finished well. Be at peace. Be at peace until we see you again. Rest for now, my son. My beloved, precious Michelangelo."_

_Mikey only troubled himself to exhale three more breaths, long enough for them to say their farewells, and long enough for him to thank God for them, and ask that He watch out for them._

_With the last breath, he finally surrendered to the quiet peace and died. He hadn't had long, but he had had enough._

_._


	23. Leonardo: Bittersweet

_Finally, bro, believe me when I tell you I'm at peace, and I have no regrets. I didn't have long, but I had enough._

_Love, Mikey_

Leonardo watched, torn between the protective instinct to embrace Raphael, and the internal warning that Raph would probably consider the noble attempt to comfort him insulting. Raphael's dark, ravaged eyes flickered from his brothers to the letter he held in his hand, before he forced his trembling fingers to fold the precious paper up and tuck it back in the envelope.

Leo watched as Raphael lurched over to Mikey's corpse, lay a hand over the cold wrist, and tenderly tucked the flaccid limb back into the sheets. Raphael was silent as he turned away, jaw set and trembling, eyes almost feverishly bright with grief. Raphael didn't weep. He didn't wail, he didn't fall to his knees and crumble. No displays of that characteristic rage, no words at all. And for as many times as the past that Leo had hated Raph's temper, he would have found it blessedly reassuring, especially now.

Raphael must have felt Leo's worry because he stiffened and turned towards his older brother. His mouth worked against his felt the brush of his hand on one shoulder, and the quiet, empty words, "I'm alright, Leo."

Raphael met Leo's eyes with a rigid nod of acknowledgement, and nothing more, as he flanked Mikey's casket, and stood still. It was as if all the volatile anger had been ciphered out of Raphael's soul and left him this hollow, quiet husk. Or, maybe, Raphael had been forced to acknowledge at last that not all things could be solved by a tantrum.

Leo flushed with shame at the horrible thought. How could he even think of such a petty issue, especially now? How could he even-

"Hey, Fearless. Ya goin' next?" Raphael's blunt question shook Leo out of his musing, as he nearly flinched in surprise. Flustered, Leo quickly regained his control, and hid his distress with his characteristic manners.

"Only if nobody objects." Leo said softly, as he looked at his family for permission. Donny was serene and wilted in his corner, quietly and waiting. April and Casey were still clinging to each other, though putting up a good effort to not look too eager. Raphael was glaring at the distance and Splinter only gave Leo a gentle, accepting smile.

_Detachment. _ Leo thought to himself. _Focus on becoming detached. Focus on the words, on the task at hand. It's only reading a letter. I'm not reading Michelangelo's last words. I'm not reading his good-bye to me. In a few hours, I'll go meditate in the woods, not out there lowering his corpse into the ground. I-_

"Leo?" Don's quiet worry was conveyed in the simple whisper of his name. Leo forced his mouth into a reassuring curl, and failed miserably at focusing on the detachment. Cursing himself inwardly, Leo swallowed back the sudden pressure in his throat, and cobbled together every last scrap of strength to appear outwardly composed and in control.

Never mind that choking back the sobs felt like holding down a volcano and he couldn't blink back all the betraying wet that kept blurring his vision and made it even harder to read the letter-

"Take it easy, Fearless. Nobody's expecting you to hold it all together." Leo's eyes widened as Raphael gave him that sad look of understanding.

"Especially not _now_." Raphael's unexpected empathy was unnerving, and just one more thing that seemed so wrong with the world. Hopelessly, Leo stared at the letter in his hand, and meeting all of their worried, distressed faces, he felt choked and trapped.

"I-" The tears were threatening to erupt and he couldn't breathe, as he instinctively stepped backwards from the casket, the body, the death and the hell around him.

"I'm sorry." Leo whispered, as he bolted.

He heard the dismayed sound of somebody calling his name, footsteps, and Splinter's gentle rebuke to let Leo leave.

And Leo fled. Past the threshold, past the farmhouse, past the room, past his family, past the vacant field with its gaping, hungry grave yard hole, and into the bright, whispering hush of the forest. He halted, and flung himself to the earth at the stump where he often came to meditate in happier times. Heaving, shaking, sick with guilt and grief and unable to do anything else, Leo shoved his head in his hands, sank into the damp earth and collapsed.

He knew he was weeping, but he wasn't sure if he was sobbing, or snarling. He knew his soul was ravaged and his family broken and his loved one gone. He knew that everything was screwed up and broken and he had to be strong for his family, but he was falling apart and-

"Leo." Leo flinched at the sound of his name, and twisted around to see Raphael squinting down at him a few yards away in the sunny patch of the trees.

Raphael stood, awkwardly, before gesturing towards the farmhouse.

"If you need some time alone, just say so. Hell, it helps sometime." Raph said quietly, waiting for an answer, or direction.

Leo swallowed hard, humiliated, and ashamed that he had fled like a child and left them all at the worst moment in their lives.

Embarrassed he apologized. "I'm sorry I left like that. I should have-"

"You should of what?" Raphael interrupted, bluntly, as he narrowed his eyes.

"I should at least be able to read Michelangelo's last words to us without hysterics. I should at least be able to treat his funeral with enough respect to not go running away like a child, Raph. Mikey deserves that at least."

Raphael's bitter chuckle was like acid as he shook his head, perversely amused and nearly breaking.

"Hell, Leo. If Mikey was getting what he deserved, he wouldn't have been beaten to death."

The words made Leo recoil, as Raphael ignored his reaction. Sighing again, Raphael seated himself a few feet away from Leo.

"We should go back." Leo whispered, weakly.

"Take it easy, Fearless. They get it.." Raph shrugged, as he eyed Leo.

"But-"

"Geeze, Fearless, you don't get a damn thing, do you?" Raphael glared, and settled himself with a grunt on the soft undergrowth.

Leo stared at him, flummoxed. "What am I not getting, Raph?" His question was flat and angry.

"This whole situation has really screwed everything up. Everything is broken, and there's no goin' back to normal when we get back to the Lair."

Leo's face twisted in confusion. At the moment, going back to the Lair sounded as far and disjointed as going to the moon. Impossible.

" And it's not just _things_ that's changed, Leo, it's _us_. We ain't the same any more. I mean, how in the hell could we be after losing Mikey?"

Raphael's hands curled into his lap, uneasily. He was almost never this deep. Yet another thing that had changed, and he hated it all the more.

"So, what do we do, Raph? Since you're so suddenly enlightened, _tell me what to do!"_ Leo's snarl was almost sobbed out as he shot to his feet.

"Tell me what to do, Raph! Tell me how to stop feeling like my soul's being ripped out! Tell me how to go back there and read my dead brother's letter and pretend that I'm not wishing to God that I could take his place! Tell me how to be strong again and help you all through this when I'm falling apart and I don't know how in the hell I'm ever, ever going to live _through this!_"

Raphael didn't recoil at the nearly hysterical shriek, embarrass him for his tears, or smirk when he wailed and lost it. Raphael only caught him against his plastron, held his shaking, warring shattering together, and let Leo sob.

And Leo wept against him, clutching at him to stay upright and felt Raph's reassuring embrace, warm and protective and _safe._

"Keep crying." Raph whispered. "Keep screaming. Keep doing whatever you have to, but just do it, eh? Just let it out, and quit worrying so damn much about falling apart, Leo. We already have."

From the quiet tremble and the sniffling, Raphael could tell that Leo's sobbing was ebbing away. Tiredly, Leo gently pushed him back, as he scrubbed at his eyes.

"_It shouldn't be like this."_ Leo jabbed his plastron with a finger. "I shouldn't be falling apart, Raph. Not like this."

Raphael gave him a wry, bitter smile. "You know what always pisses me off? Finding out that I ain't as tough as I thought I was, right when I need to be tough. Nobody expects you to be the hero all the time, Leo."

"Then what's left, Raph?" Leo's voice quaked as the helpless questions were heaved out. "Is this another change, Raph? That I go from being the leader and protector to a sniveling, shattered child? Is that better?"

Raphael sighed, rolled his eyes heavenward, as he tried to be patient. Hell, he always sucked at comforting his brothers. Especially Fearless.

"Damn it, Leo, You ain't weak! I think it's better that you're bawling your eyes out like the rest of us over you just sittin' there like a lump of concrete with no tears at all. You somehow think it would be better if you weren't crying over losing one of us? Hell, Leo, the only bastard that wouldn't be cryin' would be a heartless one. That sound better to you?"

Leo shook his head, as the tears slithered down his cheeks. Giving Raph a quavering smile, he whispered, harshly, "No. But it would be so much easier, Raph. To feel nothing at all than feel like this."

Raphael snorted. "No, it wouldn't. Giving a damn is always better, even if it hurts." Rising, he gestured towards the farmhouse.

"Now, you ready to go back? Or ya need more time to wallow?"

"I'm ready to go back." Leo said softly. Turning to his hot-head brother, he lingered for a moment.

"Thank you. Thank you for everything." Raphael blinked back the suspicious moisture in his eyes before he shrugged. "Yeah, yeah, you're welcome. Just keep it quiet, eh? Wouldn't want anybody to think I'm going soft."

Together, they made it back to the farmhouse. Casey openly stared, bewildered, as Raphael only gave him a curt shake of his head. Casey averted his eyes as April gave Leo a kind smile.

Leo gave Donny and Splinter's worried looks a reassuring smile, as he gave Raph a secret, grateful glance. Raph hitched his shoulders, embarrassed.

Striding forward, Leo plucked the letter from the table where he had left it, and cleared his throat.

"If there's no objection, I would like to read Mikey's letter out loud. Thank you all for bearing with me." It was a solemn, polite little speech that he had managed to voice with his own strong, but trembling cadence.

From his corner, Raph hid his smirk. Fearless had found his pedestal after all. He never thought he would enjoy seeing his brother climb it again.

_Dear Leo-_

Leo shut his eyes, and imagined for just a moment that he could hear the sparkle of laughter, and the bright voice again.

_This is the hardest thing that I've ever had to write or say, so bear with me, bro. I just hope that I can say everything that I need to say in a way that you'll understand. First of all, quit with the guilt. Don't torture yourself with blame. I didn't die because you failed to protect me. I died because it was my time to go. When it's your time, it's your time. I know, I went soon, but I went well, and I went with peace. That's what counts in the end. It's strange and sad, looking back and seeing how much of a damn you truly gave, and how little I appreciated it at the time. From the time we were little, even at the very end, you were there, protecting me. Protecting us. I know that I gave you a hard time, that I whined, and griped about extra practice and how "the law of Leo" was such a pain in the butt to obey at times. What I never told you, though, was how much safer I felt, in just knowing that you were there. And you were always there, regardless of how much I pushed you away. I just hope you can find a bit of peace in knowing that I'm safe now. _

_I remember how many times you wanted me to take responsibility. That was always your anthem. And since you are such a fan, I thought I'd tell you what I'd hold you responsible for. You kept us all together, and you kept us all safe. If it weren't for that, we'd be saying good-bye much quicker than this. No matter what happened, or how bad things got, just knowing that my big brother Leo was there made it better. I know, now, that being the oldest meant that you were burdened with so much more than you ever let on. I know that I didn't do much to make it easier on you, and I'm sorry for that. I used to think that you were just a fuddy-duddy, and a kill-joy. I know now how much I hurt you when I told you that you just enjoyed keeping us all prisoner, that you liked rules more than your own brothers, and I'm so so sorry, Leo. I know now just how much of a burden you carried for all of us, all those years, and what it cost you. And yet, even when you were tired, or sick, or scared, you never acted like any of us were a burden. You never blew me off, or dismissed me, or made me feel like the baby of the family. You always took the time to listen, to really hear me, and help. I don't think you'll ever know how much it meant to be taken seriously. Thank you for that._

_Back to the guilt thing. Leo, there's only so much you can control, and so much you can do. I know that you get all hyper-vigilant to keep us safe, but when it doesn't work-(and trust me, bro, it won't,) please accept the fact that sometimes, crap just happens, and there's nothing to be done to stop it. If there was some way to have stopped this, you would have found it. I wouldn't have done anything differently, even if this was the outcome. There's just some things that are worth sacrificing for. And for once, I guess….I was the sacrifice. _

_Leo, it was worth it. It was worth it, in knowing that you are all safe, in knowing that you're all together. I wouldn't change that, not if it meant that one of you went in my place. That sort of good-bye would be hell, regardless of which one of us died. Be there for Don and Raph, but also, let them be there for you. I know that it's awkward for you to admit that you're less than perfect at times but we all need help at some point. I know that you'll be tempted to be strong and carry them through this, but that's not how it works. What makes us all brothers, and family and a team is that we carry each other. Don't be afraid to let Don and Raph know when you need their help. They love you, Leo, and they'll carry you through this, if you let them. Don't face this alone, and don't shut them out. They need to help you. Trust me on this one._

_Well, I guess this is it. The good-bye part. I was never much good at saying it, and I still suck at it, so I won't say it now. I'll close with 'see you later.' Yeah, I like that, because it's short and sweet, and most of all, true. One day, Leo, a very long time from now, you'll see me again. One day, we'll be together but until then, keep on being the big brother that I've annoyed, admired, pissed off quite a bit, but most of all….loved with all my heart. _

_Love you and see you later-_

_Mikey. _


	24. Leonardo: Falling Inward

Donny watched as Leo reverently folded up the letter, creased it back to its original creases, and slid it back into the envelope. The tears trickled down Leo's face as he sniffled, but smiled and turned to Mikey's body. The sad chuckle sounded broken as he quaked and lurched over to the edge of the casket.

"Mikey-" He crumbled into sobbing laughter, and nearly collapsed as he rocked and shook on the verge of hysterics.

"You always knew just how to give me the last scrap of light to keep going. You just _always knew._ How? Did you see this coming, little brother? Did you_ know?_"

The cold flesh, and the flaccid fingers gave no answer, and no comfort. Leo white-knuckled the casket to keep from toppling as he finally pried his fingers off the wood, and lurched upward. Leaning his shell against the wall, he ignored the worried looks of his living family, crossed his arms over his plastron, and turned towards the wan light of the fading afternoon. A breeze rose, holding a bit of early autumn chill.

He raised his eyes to the swollen abyss of blue, far above the whisper of woods, the damn gaping hole in the earth that was waiting so patiently for Mikey's flesh to be surrendered to the dirt. Far above this death and this moment and maybe far enough for Mikey to hear him.

"Mikey, I need more than a scrap of light, little brother. I need more than memories, or lessons learned or finding solace. I need you, Mikey. I _need you!"_ The last word was a wailing scream, the shriek of a wounded animal pleading for the fatal, merciful blow.

The shriek erupted again, as Leo buried his face in his hands and screamed. Don stared in disbelief as Leo clawed at his face, twitching fingers wet with tears that kept curling at his temples. Raphael recoiled at the horrible, high-pitched, strangled cries, at seeing Leo fall apart like this.

Had Fearless lost his mind? What the hell-

"Come, Leonardo." Splinter latched a paw on Leo's arm, and gently tugged. Leo sobbed but limply stumbled after Splinter, heedless of the direction and obeying out of instinct alone. Casey scrambled towards the door and held it open as Splinter gave them all a thin, failing smile.

"Remain here, my sons. I will tend to Leonardo for now."

Splinter ignored the tortured, unspoken questions lingering as he shepherded Leo through the screen door.

The porch was silent and empty as Casey awkwardly closed the door. They could hear Leo's sobbing finally fading somewhere in the bowels of the house. Turning to the Turtles, Casey flung up a bewildered hand towards the general direction of Leo.

"Is Leo gonna be alright? I mean, he seems pretty torn up."

Raphael's nostrils flare as he shot to his feet like an enraged bull. "What the hell you expecting, Casey? For us to throw a party? We're burying our brother!"

Casey's lips tightened as he choked back the retort. Exhaling, he raised placating palms and inched away. From behind, Don snarled, softly, "Just stop it, Raph. If Casey and April expected anything from us, it should be a thank you for giving us a safe place for a burial."

Raphael rounded on his brother, ready to explode, as Donny just whispered, tensing. "Let it go, Raph. For once, just…stop. Please. I can't handle another brother losing it. Not now." Donny gave the house a hopeless look, and fell silent, shutting his eyes.

Guilt washed away any anger with the potency of a bucket of ice water being dumped on Raph's head. Donny had both arms clenched over his plastron, hunched against the wall, as if he were too weary to stand.

Raphael exhaled the breath he didn't know he had been holding and felt his gut deflate like a pierced balloon. "I ain't losing it, Don. I ain't the one having a screaming fit. I ain't the one that's making a big deal out of me raising my voice. I've always done that! Why the hell-"

"Guys." April stepped between them, locking eyes with Raph and giving him a pleading look. His lip curled in his teeth as he sighed and looked at the wall like he wanted to kill it.

"Sorry." Raph grunted, as he exhaled the breath. "Casey, I didn't mean to go off."

Casey accepted the apology with a forgiving shrug. "Don't worry about it, Raph. It's cool, alright?"

A quick nod and absolution. Casey may have been a meathead on occasion, but he was a damn good friend.

April gave Raph a grateful smile, and then a worried frown at the door. Softly, she whispered, "Should somebody go after Leo?"

Donny shifted with a tired sigh. "No. We're not that good at patching up Leo. Normally, _he_ does that for _us._"

Raph nodded in curt agreement. "Fearless needs Master Splinter. Anything we say or do would just make it worse."

"Will Leo be okay?" April whispered with a troubled glance to Casey. Raphael hitched his shoulders. "You think that any of us are okay right now, April?"

She pursed her lips, miserably before shaking her head. "Raph, I don't expect you to just piece yourselves back together and pretend that everything is just fine. _I don't."_

She stepped close enough for him to see the tears glimmering in her eyes, threatening to spill over. Raph inwardly cringed, he always hated it when April cried. He tensed instinctively when she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him.

"I meant it when I said that you're not alone. You're not."

He took two breaths, two deep shuddering breaths that were less like sobbing. Carefully, he eased his arms over her back and took the comfort, embarrassment be damned. When he knew he wouldn't howl like a beaten kid, he let her go, with a whispered, "Thanks. For everything."

April graced him with an understanding smile that he didn't deserve.

Donny observed the scene in icy silence, but forced an appreciative smile for the benefit of the humans. For all of his brilliance, he didn't know exactly what he was feeling, what he was thinking or anything worth noting except that he was a few feet from Mikey's corpse, and a thousand miles away from the broken brother weeping inside

He felt sick. He felt numb. He felt tired and scraped raw, as if his last nerve were fraying like a noose and every reaction seemed to pick at the last strands. Before this, he would have quietly bore his problems, quietly retreated into solitude and work out his problems without disturbing his father or brothers. If he needed a sympathetic ear, or some encouragement, he would have gone to Mikey.

And now, he couldn't. Mikey's letter with his name scrawled on the envelope fluttered like a banner of defeat in the light breeze. Raph and Leo had read theirs already, and Donny wasn't sure if it would be easier for him to read his dead brother's last words, or fling himself off the nearest cliff. His gut was certainly plummeting as if he were in danger of falling that far.

It was a letter, here among his brothers, penned down by a beloved family member with the sole intention of comforting Donny. Then why did Donny have to fight the urge to snatch it up and rip it up and fling the pieces to the wind?

_Because it's final. _ He thought brutally. _ Because when I open that letter and read Mikey's last words, that's it. No more words, no more of Mikey. Nothing left of him after this._

Suddenly the idea of reading the letter out loud made the bile rise and the tears come again. Donny couldn't read it any more than he could flap his arms high enough to fly to heaven and bring Mikey back.

_I can't do it. Mikey, I'm sorry._

Meanwhile, for those who like broken Leo…..

For the thousandth time in less than two days, Splinter found himself completely at a loss. The days had bled together in one sepia haze, like he was drifting through a fog where only the sharpest of agonies became visible. And he had suffered more in these last few days than he had suffered the whole sum of his life.

The crippling loss of his son, and the bewildered shattering of those who lived. This ever present anguish that offered no solace, no hope, no answers, and nothing but the soul-deep ache. Now, he faced the hellish task of taking the broken shards of their lives and trying to forge them into something that might have resembled hope.

How could he help his sons who suffered so much when he himself felt so shattered? How could he offer healing and peace when he knew with searing certainty that these wounds would never, never heal?

All of his life, he had sworn to love and protect them. Splinter did not know how to protect them from this. But deeper than the loss was the love and deeper than the agony was the resolve that he would salvage whatever life was left for his living sons. They would heal. They would have hope again.

But for now, he would carry them in any way he could. This was the one thing he had left to give them. This was one fragment of familiar life left after Michelangelo's passing. He would have a lifetime to mourn. He knew it would take a life time.

Splinter did not voice those thoughts as he had guided Leonardo back through the dark refuge of the old farm house. His eldest son shuffled behind him, guided by childish instinct to obey a father. Splinter hid the wince when Leo's fingers dug into his arm. Splinter had ignored the pain, and only cupped his hand over Leo's, rubbing his paw over the shaking knuckles in fragile reassurance.

"I am here for you, my son. I am here."

Gently, Splinter worked Leonardo's fingers free from his sleeve and turned to face him. Leonardo stood, quaking and blanched, his eyes huge and vacant of anything but the tears. It made Splinter's soul curdle.

Carefully, Splinter nudged Leonardo towards the overstuffed arm chair.

"Do you wish to sit, my son?" Leo didn't answer, but merely folded his knees and fell heavily into the cushions without a sound.

"Remain here, Leonardo. I will return quickly." Leo only closed his eyes and answered in a whisper, "Yes, Father."

Splinter shuffled towards the kitchen, and then returned a few moments later.

Leo flinched in surprise at the sudden cold cloth at his forehead.

Cracking his eyes open, he saw Splinter draw back with a kitchen cloth raised in his paw.

"Be still, my son." Splinter whispered. Leo felt kind paws ghost over his cheeks, thumb away a tear, and then carefully tug at the knot that held his mask. Easing the mask away, Splinter dabbed the tears away with quick, gentle strokes around Leo's clenched eyelids.

Leonardo suddenly whimpered, as more tears trickled and he buried his face in his hands.

"Father!" A choking plea, answered by Splinter's steadying arms lacing themselves over Leo's shoulders. Leo nearly collapsed into the embrace, as he buried his face into Splinter's shoulder and sobbed.

Splinter held his oldest son in his arms, stroking his quaking shoulder in soothing circles, muttering paternal comfort. He had not done this since his sons were small enough for him to carry. When the sobbing drifted off to sniffling, Splinter waited for Leonardo to gently push his father away and sit back in the chair.

There was only silence as Leonardo lowered his head in humiliation.

"Sensei, I apologize for losing control of my emotions. I'm sorry." Guilt made Leo cringe when he glanced at the direction of his brothers on the porch.

Splinter gave him a thin, tolerant smile. "My son, would you apologize for being in pain after an injury?"

Leo sighed heavily. "I would if I let the pain override my ability to control myself. I shouldn't be falling apart like this. I-"

"You should not have to bury your brother. And I should not have to say good-bye to one of my sons."

Splinter whispered harshly. He shut his eyes and exhaled to regain his control. Leonardo felt Splinter's paw under his chin, as he tilted his face upward. Peering into Leo's eyes, Splinter tilted his head.

"Leonardo, my son." Leo felt Splinter's grip tighten with emotion.

"It is not control that has been lost. I have lost a son. You have lost a brother. And we have all lost the world as we thought it should be. We have lost life as we have understood it. We have lost part of our hearts that we will never regain."

Splinter's eyes flickered, as he continued, harsh, brittle, soft, "Leonardo, I am afraid."

Leonardo's features twisted. "Of what?" What could possibly left to fear, or wound after this?

"I fear for my sons." Splinter whispered. "I fear for the future they must face, for the life ahead they must rebuild. And I fear for myself."

Splinter wrenched his paws from the fold of his robe as he rose. "I fear returning home and facing the emptiness there. I fear entering Michelangelo's room and no more hearing his laughter, his voice. I fear that every time I close my eyes that I will not see his smile, but his body. I fear that I will feel this way until the end of my days. A father always carries the fear that something may happen to one of his children, Leonardo. When that fear comes true, a father's fear becomes terror of the world, and maybe, life itself."


	25. Donatello:Scrape

Donny could only stand, rigid as if his feet had grown roots, as he stared at the letter trembling like moth's wings in his shaking hands. April and Casey were huddled together, his strong arms over her narrow shoulders and both of the humans looked lost and helpless. Raphael was silent and glaring at the closed door where Splinter had swept Leo away.

Normally, the terrible moment would have been broken by Mikey's goofy empathy, a bad joke, that bright, forgiving laughter.

_But Mikey's gone now._

The thought rippled through Don's brain like a sledge hammer for the hundredth time. Wearily, he scrubbed his temples, trying to massage away the dull ache that had taken refuge for three days now behind his eyes. Donny was honestly too numb, too scraped raw, too _drained_ to feel, to make sense of any of this. Dumbly, he stared down at Mikey's corpse again, scowling at the withered lips, the wan skin, and the serene face that revealed nothing of the violent ending.

_Three days ago, I stitched up Mikey's head, held him down during the convulsions. Three days ago, he was alive and breathing and we were four, not three. Four days ago, we were all eating pizza together and laughing. These are simple calculations. Four became three. That's what happened. It shouldn't be this hard to understand. _

Donny winced as the pain in his head sharpened to a spike. He always got headaches when he was stressed, had too little sleep, or was going through some emotional turmoil. The last few days had been flooded with all three. He stared at the letter in his hand, ran a loving thumb over it, and reverently sat it down.

_I can't read this._

The small curl of resolve was comforting, tethering in the flood of emotions he could not analyze and the agony he could not even voice. Mercifully, Raphael grunted behind, giving him a wonderfully perverse distraction before his tears started trickling.

Turning to Raph, Don stared and pondered.

_At first, I thought that we were broken because of Mikey's dying, but now, it's as if the universe itself is fracturing beneath us. What in the hell happened to us? I'm the angry one, Leo's helpless. And Raph…._

Don swallowed hard. 

_Thank God Raph is still pissed off, and bitter and angry. Thank God that there's something that makes some sense. Something that's unchanged and familiar, even if's only Raph's temper that's left._

Donny had never thought that Raph's anger issues would ever have any redeeming quality, but now, he was almost grateful.

Almost as if reading his thoughts, Raphael tensed under the weight of Don's open gaze, and met his eyes with a curt nod. Shrugging, he crossed his arms over his plastron and gave the door another glare.

"You gonna read Mikey's letter?" Raphael tossed the words over his shoulder, and did not turn to face Don.

Donny bit his lip and shook his head. "No." He breathed out. "No. I can't. Not yet."

"Why not?" Casey blurted out from his corner, startling both Turtles. The regret flickered over his features even as Raph tensed and turned to him with dangerously narrowed eyes.

"These are Mikey's last words to me. After this….." Donny helplessly flung up a hand. What in the hell did come after that?

Don's sigh was heavy as he continued, quietly. "After this, there's _nothing._ No more words, no more moments, nothing but memories. I can't-" He choked, and continued, "I can't face that. Not yet."

To Donny's shock, Raph very gently folded Don's fingers over the letter, and clasped Don's hands between his own.

"Then don't read it. Mikey wrote to _you,_ Don. It's your letter. If ya can't read it, then ya can't."

Raph gave him a sad, understanding smirk, before letting him go.

Don could only stare at his brother's shell, both touched and bewildered. Of course, Raph cared for his brothers, and loved them. But when the hell did Raph get such …kindness? Was this a trait long buried under his grunts and snarls, or was this another change triggered by Mikey's loss?

Don sighed again. The world he knew-with four living brothers-was too shattered to return, or rebuild. He couldn't go back. It was as gone as Mikey was.

**He ran a finger over the envelope, letting it linger over Mikey's neat penmanship. Very gently, he pulled out the papers, and unfolded them, smoothing them out at the creases and staring at the looping swirls of Mikey's writing. It was strange, and shameful for Leo, but out of the four of them, Mikey had always had the "prettiest" hand-writing. Raph usually wrote in block letters, and used quick words, because he had little patience for writing. Leo wrote slow, precise cursive in even lines. His penmanship was always legible. Anything penned by Don was erratically scrawled, and barely passable as language. Nobody could read anything that Don wrote, simply because Don scribbled out his ideas as quickly he thought of them, and did not care if anybody else could read it. Even when he forced himself to slow down, his own handwriting was disjointed and rather sloppy. He glanced through Mikey's handwriting, but set it down.**

"I think that everybody should hear it." Don said softly.

Raph shrugged. "However ya want it, Donny. You know that."

Don squinted at him, curiously. Normally, Raph would have snarled, picked a fight, something. And now, he did nothing but keep a troubled vigil over Mikey's corpse and sending those worried glares to the door.

"What the hell happens when we go home without him, Don?" Raph's question was raw and quiet.

"I don't know." Donny shrugged, helplessly. "I mean, Mikey would want us to carry on, live our lives. In some way, Mikey will always be with-"

Raph flinched and whirled, growling, "Don't say that."

Donny winced, bewildered by the outburst. "Don't say what?"

Raph snarled. "That crap about Mikey being in a better place, or resting or looking down from the clouds, or being at peace! I hate that crap!"

From her corner, April exhaled so quickly that she nearly hissed. "What do you mean by _that,_ Raph? You really think that your brother _isn't _in a better place now?"

Donny blanched as Raphael rounded on her, furious and wounded. "Mikey should be here, damn it! He should be alive! How in the hell could there be a better place if it ain't with his family?! Ya really think it's a _good _thing for him to be dead? That it's somehow better for him to die and leave us than it is for him to live and stay here? You think he's in _heaven?! _Come off it. We ain't nothing but turtles. We don't have souls or an afterlife, or anything better than what we got now."

April paled, as she weakly asked, "You really believe that, Raph? That once you die, that's it?"

"What makes you think you don't have souls?" Casey barked out. "You really think you just rot in the ground when you're done down here? That there's nothin' past that?"

Raph snarled out, softly, "Mikey's dead, and he ain't coming back. _That's_ all I know."

Donny tensed at the brewing theological argument. Of course, his brothers had all had speculations about what happened when they died. Splinter had given them the rudiment teachings of what he remembered from Japan, and some ideas from religious tracts that had been swept down the sewer. Mainly, though, the old rat emphasized living with honor, and combating the fear of death by leaving nothing unfinished. He let each of them pursue their own spirituality, as long as they respected the beliefs of their brothers.

Of course, it had always been an issue. With the lives they lived, and the risks they took, there was always the chance that one of them wouldn't make it home. It was also a reality they all ignored to stay sane. None of them had ever, ever expected to bury Mikey. But, Donny loathed the idea that all that was left of any of them was a fleeting memory and a decaying body that was slowly reclaimed by the earth.

"We have souls." Don said quietly.

Raph shook his head, and raised tired eyes to Don. His voice was almost subdued. "How do you know that, Brainiac?"

"How do you know that we don't?" Donny regarded Raph with narrowed eyes, as he gave Mikey's body another glance. He never thought that an argument with Raph would be such a gift, but he'd take any sort of distraction over the piece of paper that had his brother's last words.

"Raph, we're here in the first place." Don whispered. "I mean, think about it, Raph. That can of ooze could have missed any one of us. These sort of mutations, the amount of changes we went through physically, not to mention our intelligence level? I know you don't see it that way, Raph, but the gift of an intellect is exceedingly rare for life forms. What we went through should have _killed _us, but it didn't. It gave us a family. That ooze gave us each other, and I'm grateful for it, even if it means going through this now. The odds of all of these events being random are too astronomically high to simply be left to chance. Somebody put a lot of effort into making sure we came into existence. It makes no sense to me to believe that we just end after all of that."

Raphael squinted at that, and did not hide his scowl of disagreement. Here they were, burying their baby brother, and Donny was trying to make it sound as if they were all somehow lucky for that damn can of ooze.

Raph sighed. Sure, it was a hell of a lot more comforting to envision Mikey healed and whole, and waiting for them, in a heavenly paradise. It was much better than surrendering Mikey's body to the dirt.

Shaking his head, he stared at them all, seeing April and Casey still huddled together, and Don's nervous figiting. Brainiac always did that when he didn't know else to do. Made sense. He couldn't fix Mikey.

"I need some air. Get me when Master Splinter comes out with Leo, will ya?"

After waiting for Don's nod, Raphael walked out, not bothering to stop the screen door from slamming behind him.


	26. Colusion:Raphael and Donny

The screen door slammed against the aging wooden frame like a shot gun blast. Don flinched at the sudden noise, and watched the door flap idly as Raphael retreated from the aftermath. Leo was crumbling in the bedroom, as Master Splinter was attempting to stop the fragmenting. Donny found himself in the room, with only Mikey's corpse for company, and the two bewildered humans. April was still clutching Casey for solace, and Casey had twisted , wide-eyed towards Raph's retreating shell.

April swallowed back the tiny sound of a questioning whimper.

"Should I go after Raph?" Casey mercifully broke the silence with an uncertain glance at the door.

Donny shook his head, and answered, softly, "Raphael needs some time to clear his head. He'll come back when he's ready."

"What about Leo?" April asked worriedly.

Donny exhaled. "Master Splinter is with him. He can help Leo piece himself back together. Interrupting them wouldn't be a good idea."

Casey's eyes narrowed. "Yeah? And what about _you?_"

Donny tiredly shrugged. "I'm fine." He said flatly. When he saw April's features twist, he forced a wan, false smile. "I'm okay. Really."

April and Casey exchanged disbelieving glances, and Casey nodded, silently. Gently, April slid free of his protective arms, and halted a few feet away from Donny.

"Donny? Are you _sure_ you're okay?" April stared at him with those huge, emerald, pleading eyes, and behind her, Casey hitched his shoulders, uncomfortably.

Donny bit back the odd, cruel remark that 'okay' was a word that was as dead and useless as Mikey's body. _ Okay_ was home, with his brothers intact, alive and safe, not hiding in bedrooms or screaming at the sky in the vacant field, or waiting to be buried. Hell, no, Donny wasn't okay. How in the hell could he be? _Okay,_ Donny realized, was as accessible to him as the lost city of Atlantis, swallowed into oblivion, and a place he could never return to, because for him, it no longer existed.

The thoughts swirled in his brain, brought the strangled, choked back grunt to his throat, and only emerged as what he hoped appeared to be a patient sigh.

"Thank you for your concern. I appreciate it." He gave April another failing attempt of a reassuring smile, one that wilted on his lips and felt as if it were dribbling off of his face like water.

He had hoped the polite dismissal was enough to quell her questions for the moment. April narrowed her eyes, and shook her head.

"Don, you don't have to be brave. Not for us."

He felt the warmth of her hand over his shoulder. Donny lay a palm over hers, letting it linger before he very gently lifted her hand and inched away, uncomfortable at the contact, and somehow grateful for it.

"I'm not brave." He said it more sharply than he meant to, because Casey stiffened and April flinched.

Knotting his shaking hands into fists, and shoving them under his armpits to hide them, he faced the humans.

"I can't even read Mikey's last words to me. I can't even force myself to walk through that door to help Leo and Master Splinter, or go after Raph. How in the hell is that _brave?"_ Donny snarled softly.

April pursed her lips and said nothing.

Donny dug his fingers into his temples, trying to stall some of the ache that had settled behind his eyes. He knew that he should apologize, that he should try to regain some of his tactful, quiet nature, hammer it on like a mask and grace them all with his soft-spoken tact.

And if Donny were any position to offer it, he would have. He stared, torn at the door where Leo and Splinter were, at Mikey's body and the little huddle of humans, and then the open field where Raph had taken refuge.

" I'm sorry. Please excuse me." He whispered, as he gently sidestepped April, and headed for the field. He took great care to see that the screen door didn't slam.

The air was crisp, with a bit of chill, and the leaves were edged in red. Normally, an early warm fall like this was to be savored, but Donny ignored the beauty in favor of finding Raph. His little sojourn had instinctively taken him to that gaping hole in the dirt where they'd lay Mikey to rest. He forlornly bypassed the grave, a bit surprised that Raph wasn't there.

Frowning a bit, he turned on his heel, back into the trees that surrounded the field. The forest was full of odd sounds, a shrill cry of a bird, the rustling of leaves falling. Donny paused to see if he could find any trace of Raph, a bit worried now.

Here, the woods thinned out and only the largest trees clung to the steep ravine of the little stream that ambled her way through the countryside. The stream wasn't much more than a serpentine trickle that fanned out past the incline, forming a large patch of flat rock and earth. It was a quiet, sheltered spot that offered a bit of peace.

Donny was both relieved and surprised to see Raphael at the bank of the stream. Edging closer, Don stood, warily wondering if he would be welcome, or intruding.

Raphael was slumped against a fallen log, with his arms folded across his knees, staring out at the water. Don lingered indecisively for a moment, before he turned to leave, hoping not to disturb Raph.

"You gonna take a picture of me, or what?" Donny was startled by Raph's sudden, languid question.

"I'm sorry. I didn't expect to find you here." Donny answered after a moment.

Raph tilted his head over his shoulder to look at Donny, curiously. " Leo or Master Splinter need something?"

Awkwardly, Donny shrugged. " No. I didn't mean to interrupt you. I'm leaving now." He spun on his heel back towards the underbrush.

"Donny, wait." Raph's plea was abrupt. Don turned back towards him, worriedly.

Raph uneasily waved a hand. "You ain't interrupting anything, Donny. Here. Sit down."

Raph pat the dirt in invitation and a sad smirk. "It's really peaceful here. Helps me clear my head."

Don hesitated, before lowering himself next to Raphael. Raph gave him a side glance before turning back to the shimmer of writhing water.

A long, comfortable silence passed between them, before Don curiously raised an eye arch.

"Is that what you were doing out here, Raph? Clearing your head?"

Raphael scowled and shook his head. Tapping a finger to his temple, he groused, "No. I'm not like you and Fearless. I don't have to clutter things up here by overthinking or brooding. What's the point?"

Raph shrugged, bitterly. "We _all_ know what we have to do. Keep our crap together long enough to have the funeral, and put Mikey in the ground. Bury our baby brother, and get _it done_."

He picked up a stone, rubbed a thumb over its red surface and then sent it skittering over the top of the water. Donny watched it skip five times before it silently sank with only a ripple.

"That's simple. That's all we got to do. So why in the hell is it so hard for me to drag my shell back to the farmhouse and do it, Don? Why is it so hard for you to finish reading Mikey's letter, or for Leo to keep from blubbering, or for the three of us to even stay in the same room together?"

Donny hitched his shoulders, as he scooped a stone, careful to avoid looking at Raph, and tactfully staying silent about Raph's quaking and sudden sniffling.

"Because of what it means." Don's fingers were shaking as he twisted the stone in his hands in anguish. He tried to toss the stone, and watched as it flopped into the dirt and rolled into the river. "It's final. It means shattering any illusion that Mikey's deceased. Raph, have you even thought about what it's going to be like with just the three of us?"

Raph narrowed his eyes, and sucked in a breath. Donny tactfully ignored the sudden wet that made Raph's eyes eerily bright.

"I spend most of my time thinking about how I'm going to kill those bastards who did this. I spend most of my time thinkin' how damn good it's going to feel shoving my sais through their guts and hearing them scream. I know Master Splinter would be pissed if he knew that, but it's a hell of a lot easier thinkin' about vengeance and being angry than it is thinking of Mikey being dead. You and Fearless ever think about _things like_ that instead of just moping?"

Raph's growl was brutal and soft, as he caressed his sai with a smirk that looked as if it would shatter.

Donny only stared at him, jaw slightly open.

Raphael picked up another stone, and flicked it out over the water. Don watched as it skipped over the ripples before sinking again. Don grabbed a rock, and hurled it in frustration.

"Look. We're not doing Mikey or ourselves any favors by all this crying. It won't bring him back, and it won't change a damn thing."

Donny swallowed hard. "More killing won't bring Mikey back, either, Raph. And after that night…."Donny shuddered, "I don't want to pick up my bo staff. I'm not even sure that I _can."_

Donny cringed at the admission, and braced himself for the verbal knives that Raph was sure to throw.

"They killed our brother, Don. You just going to let that slide because you turn pansy? Mikey deserves _better!" _

Raph's roar ended in a snarl as he suddenly snatched both sais from his belt and hurled them. Donny flinched as both blades embedded themselves into a hollowed out trunk a few yards away.

"Mikey deserves better than having our blood spilled for something that we can't accomplish, Raph. I want to see Mikey again, one day, but not as another murder victim."

"Yeah? You gonna explain to Mikey how you wimped out and let the bastards who did this get away with it? You wanna explain to him how he wasn't worth fighting for? We're not human! We don't have any cops to call, or courts, or juries to help us! If we won't get Mikey justice, who the hell will?"


	27. The Darkness Within

"Yeah? You gonna explain to Mikey how you wimped out and let the bastards who did this get away with it? You wanna explain to him how he wasn't worth fighting for? We're not human! We don't have any cops to call, or courts, or juries to help us! If we won't get Mikey justice, who the hell will?!"

"Nobody." Donny snarled out so harshly that Raphael flinched.

It was ugly, vicious. Nothing like the gentle, quiet brother that Raph had known for a lifetime.

Donny's lips tightened into a thin line. Glancing at Raph, Donny leveled his glare to the water, his fingers absently clawing at the log he was seated on.

"When I saw Mikey topple, my first reaction wasn't to run to his side, and try to help him, Raph. I wasn't thinking about him being dead or alive at that point. I don't think at that point that I had any coherent thoughts. How could I? I had nothing, nothing at all but that rage. Rage that I had never felt before, rage that would have had me scared out of my mind, if I had a mind left at that point. My first reaction was to kill. I didn't even stop to check to see if Mikey was alright at first. I….. I even stepped over his body so I could take vengeance. I wanted to see them die. And before that, I wanted them to suffer through the same hell that they had put us through so many times before. That's ironic, isn't it? Me having an anger issue?"

Raph forced his head to bob in agreement. Were there words for this? Was there something he should say to take that sick, vicious _rage _out of Donny's eyes and make him go back to being the quiet, gentle brainiac he was before?

Raphael winced as Donny's mouth curled into a cruel, broken smirk. "I know that you and Leo cling to the illusion that I chose the bo staff out of some perverse sense of mercy. After all, it's best used for keeping enemies at a distance, and avoiding close combat. A stick is harder to do damage with than a blade. My bo.. it's more of a defensive weapon than anything else. Your sais can stab, and Leo's katanas can easily decapitate somebody. It makes for easier killing, right?"

Raphael shrugged uneasily, not knowing how to answer a stupid question like that. He finally settled for muttering out, "Yeah….I guess so." It was all scared and soft and barely above a whisper. Nothing like Raph's normal bellowing. But then again, this was nothing like Donny, either.

Donny's chuckle fragmented out, as if he had swallowed broken glass.

"It's an act of mercy when _you_ kill somebody, Raphael."

Donny watched the bewildered twisting of Raphael's features, as his brother opened and shut his mouth.

Giving Raph that sad, understanding smile, Donny waited for Raph to swallow, to breathe and process.

"I'm sorry. Maybe I should clarify that. The only way that I have of killing with my bo is beating somebody to death. With your sais, you don't have to do anything more than stab. Sever an artery, puncture a vital organ, and death just follows after. Quick, and easy, right?"

Donny raised his arm and swiped it out, hard and quick for emphasis.

"Killing isn't easy_."_ Raph growled, with a scowl.

"But we do it well."

"Hey, if I take out a rapist or a bastard who kills a homeless bum for giggles, I'm doing this damn world a favor. We're not exactly killing little old ladies, or children, Donny. I don't think any more of killing one of those back alley assholes any more than I would stepping on a cockroach. Why should I? Why should _we?"_

Raphael flung his hands up, waving away the questions like he would swat a fly.

"We take life, Raph. Just like they do. What makes us any different?"

"Everything!" Raph snarled. "Who do _we_ take out, Donny? You ever attack or kill anybody unarmed? You ever wake up in the morning and decide it'd be great to shoot somebody because it sounds fun? You ever slice up a lady and dump her in the trash can when you're finished with her? _Those_ are the people that _we're_ taking out. It's not killing, Donny. It's trash one of those bastards gets exactly what they deserve. And I plan on removing a hell of a lot more garbage when we get back to the city."

Raph growled with another shrug.

"It's not a matter of what they deserved, Raph. It's the fact that _I_ killed, and _I _enjoyed it. Does that not make me a monster?"

Raphael narrowed his eyes, and lay a hand on Don's shoulder. "What do you mean, brainiac? You feel _guilty?_ You think those bastards would have stopped?"

Donny stared up at him with those tortured eyes, as he started trembling. "The only way I can truly kill with my bo staff is to beat somebody to death. And that's exactly what I did, over and over and over again. Raph, I don't know if those bastards would have stopped, or not. But it took Leo pulling me off and me actually seeing Mikey laying on the concrete before I snapped out of it. I….I don't know if I could stop the next time, Raph. And I don't want to find out. I'm sorry."

Raphael sighed and shook his head with a roll of his eyes. "I'm only going to explain this once, Donny. You didn't do anything wrong. Let it go, will ya?"

"But…."

Raphael glared and dug his steadying hands into Donny's shoulders.

"There's no line, Donny. There's no line that you cross over once and then you can never go back. You blew up because you saw somebody threatening your family, and you acted to protect them. You didn't have a choice to do anything else. There wasn't a damn way out, there wasn't anything else to be done. _Those_ bastards were the ones who murdered somebody that night. Those bastards were the ones who captured us and wouldn't let us go. Hell, Donny. You didn't have any more say in killing that night than Mikey had in dying. What you did wasn't wrong. Those bastards would have lived if they had walked away. _We_ were the ones who were trapped. _We didn't have a choice. "_


	28. Raphael, and Donnatello: Tarnish

Raphael glared and dug his steadying hands into Donny's shoulders.

"There's no line, Donny. There's no line that you cross over once and then you can never go back. You blew up because you saw somebody threatening your family, and you acted to protect them. You didn't have a choice to do anything else. There wasn't a damn way out, there wasn't anything else to be done. _Those_ bastards were the ones who murdered somebody that night. Those bastards were the ones who captured us and wouldn't let us go. Hell, Donny. You didn't have any more say in killing that night than Mikey had in dying. What you did wasn't wrong. Those bastards would have lived if they had walked away. _We_ were the ones who were trapped. _We didn't have a choice."_

Donny stiffened against Raphael's grip, but said nothing. Raphael scowled at his tremble, and gripped Donny tighter for a moment more before he let him go.

"We didn't have a choice, Don." Raphael repeated quietly, wondering how in the hell Donny could only be inches away and yet feel as if he were miles away. Donny closed his eyes, and breathed out through his clenched teeth. Raphael hated the way that his once quiet, gentle brother now had to struggle to maintain that peaceful façade.

Donny narrowed his eyes, and peered at the withering sunlight, the peaceful green of the forest.

"I never said that I regretted it."

Donny managed to keep his voice soft, but he could not take out the undercurrent of barely-concealed rage. His lip twisted in his teeth, and then tightened into a grim, frustrated line.

"I never said that it was _wrong,_ either. What was done… what they _did_ to Michelangelo is unforgiveable. But what I did…it's unforgiveable, too. _That _ was the line that was crossed, Raph. It's not a matter of how deserving they were. It's the fact that I murdered, and I enjoyed doing it. I wasn't defending Mikey. I was getting vengeance. And harming or killing out of vengeance was one of the things that Splinter always told us was wrong. I can't take that back. And, as sick as it sounds, I wouldn't."

There was only another long silence, as Raphael finally asked, bitterly, "Why in the _hell_ should you?"

"Because I hate this!" Donny suddenly snarled, and whirled to face him. "I hate what Mikey's death has done to me, what I've become! Look at me, Raph. _Look at me!_"

Donny raises his shaking hands, hands that had slain, hands that had sewed up his dead brother's head, and taken a shovel to the earth to dig a grave. He stared at his palms, and suddenly snapped them shut with a finality that made Raph wince.

"It feels like that I'm not just burying Mikey, Raph. It feels like I'm burying everything that I knew about the world, about us, and most of all, me. I know, it sounds sick, and selfish, and _wrong,_ but I don't know what to do."

Ignoring Raph's bewildered stare, Donny clutched his forehead, and wilted with the sudden flood of the undercurrent. "I'm sorry, Raph. Forget I said anything. I didn't mean to dump any of this on you."

Raphael only cracked that sad, bitter smirk as he shook his head in perverse amusement.

"Why? Because you think I don't get how you feel?Being pissed off is easier, you know. All that anger? It gives you a sense that you can do something besides sit there and cry. Makes you feel more powerful, and it's hurts a lot less than just blubbering. Anger can protect you like that….for a while."

Raphael's smirk withered as he raised troubled eyes to Donny. "Don't let this make you hard, Donny. It ain't worth you giving up everything that makes you good."

Donny felt Raph clap a hand on his shoulder. "Mikey would hate that, Donny. And the rest of us would, too."

Donny gently shrugged his hand off, and glared at the trees. "Mikey's dead, Raph. I don't think he has the ability to really give a damn, now."

The resignation, the despair, both curled in his gut and hardened like concrete over his soul. He ignored Raph's wince as he dully rose to his feet, and turned back towards the house.

"I might as well read Mikey's letter. There's no point in putting it off now." Donny said it as if he were expecting his own execution. Uncertainly, Raphael watched his brother make his way through the woods.

With a sigh, Raph followed.

_Meanwhile, an update with Leo and Splinter…._

Splinter's eyes flickered, as he continued, harsh, brittle, soft, "Leonardo, I am afraid."

Leonardo's features twisted. "Of what?" What could possibly left to fear, or wound after this?

"I fear for my sons." Splinter whispered. "I fear for the future they must face, for the life ahead they must rebuild. And I fear for myself."

Splinter wrenched his paws from the fold of his robe as he rose. "I fear returning home and facing the emptiness there. I fear entering Michelangelo's room and no more hearing his laughter, his voice. I fear that every time I close my eyes that I will not see his smile, but his body. I fear that I will feel this way until the end of my days. A father always carries the fear that something may happen to one of his children, Leonardo. When that fear comes true, a father's fear becomes terror of the world, and maybe, life itself."

Splinter felt Leo's flinch, the recoil as he pulled himself away from Splinter to stare at him with the bewildered eyes of a wounded child.

"Forgive the ramblings of an old rat, Leonardo. My burdens are not yours to bear."

The brittle attempt at a smile on Splinter's lips withered and dribbled away like water, as he turned his searing, wet gaze to the flicker of the candlelight.

"As children, when you were small and afraid, it was far easier to reassure you, to comfort you. Whether it was fear of the dark, or a storm, or even the presence of a human, if I held you in my arms, and told you that all was well, it was enough for you to feel safe. I wish that I could give you that reassurance, now, my son."

Leo gripped the trembling paws between his own hands. "I wish you could, too, Master Splinter."

Splinter at last gave him a wan smile. "I have tried, my son, to raise you all to be good, kind, and strong, but most of all, as brothers, who care for one another,who love each other deeply. This world can be cruel to those who are different, as you already know, Leonardo. I wanted the four of you to have the strength of safety, of peace, of _family._ I am proud of you all, my son. You have proven that this old rat has succeeded."

Rising, he held out a beseeching paw to Leo. "Come, my son. We will face this together. Let us find your brothers, and say our good-byes."


	29. Laying the Dead To Rest Part I

The overwhelming silence was starting to get on Casey's nerves. The farm house seemed suddenly empty, with Raph and Don out piecing themselves together in the field somewhere, and Leo and Splinter bawling behind the bedroom door. Casey hated seeing everybody in such a crappy state, and being so helpless to do anything.

He winced as he shifted to ease some of the ache in his back. The couch groaned in protest as he gently re-draped his arm over April's quaking shoulders, as she huddled against him. Dubiously,Casey stared at the bed-room door where Leo had fled, sobbing, and Splinter had hobbled after him. Casey bit his lip, half wondering if it would be better or worse to enter the bedroom, and risk interrupting what was an agonizing moment between Leo and Splinter, or stay where he was.

Casey stared at the beige walls, the light flutter of the gingham curtain in the kitchen, at anything that would provide a distraction from staring at Mikey's corpse.

He squinted at the wan light spilling through the screen door, where Raph and Don had left, and he wondered how long the silence would go on. He glanced at a falling petal, wafting its way to the floor from one of the wilting flowers. He stared at the ceiling, and then shut his eyes to lean back and allow April to fall against him, if that was what she needed now.

Casey hated this.

The helpless, paralyzed _ache,_ the way he wanted to put his fist through a wall, break some bones, and kill whoever did this to his family.

The silence that used to be filled with the noise of four brothers, the horrible way the three left seemed to limp around like a horse with a broken leg.

Raphael, fighting sobs and looking as if he wanted to rip apart something, just to _do something_.

Donny wondering around dumbly, wringing his hands and staring at Mikey with those huge, empty eyes.

And Leo, curled and and blubbering in Splinter's arm, while the old rat tried and failed to piece his oldest boy back together.

_We're all falling apart._

Casey sighed, as he scrubbed his dark hair with a weary hand.

_We're all falling apart, and even if we find some way of getting through this, we'll never get back what was lost. It's never going to be the same again. _

Casey's hopeless thoughts were interrupted by the quiet snick of the bedroom door being slid open. Almost timidly, Leo gently nudged the door open with his palm, before poking his head through and warily peering at the room.

At his side, Splinter tottered forward on his cane. Leo quickly offered his arm, and the rat gave his eldest son a grateful smile as he hooked his paw to Leo's elbow.

Leo stooped a bit to accommodate Splinter's shorter height, and together, they shuffled into the living room. The old rat gave Leo a solemn nod, as he leaned on his cane and stepped away.

Leo said nothing as he gazed around the room, even as his eyes held both the fresh burn of tears when he looked at Mikey.

And then, Leo turned to the huddled humans, with a wan smile of quiet warmth.

April gave him a tentative quirk of her lips back, as Casey eyed Leo with a raised eyebrow.

"Leo? You doing better?"

"I am." Leo answered, with the quiet certainty that made April's heart ache as she suddenly stood up and wrapped him in a fierce embrace.

Leo stiffened in surprise, but laced one arm over her spine, and carefully pressed her to his plastron.

"April. I'm alright." He whispered as he held her for a brief moment. "I'm alright."

She gave him another embrace, and reluctantly let him go.

Casey cleared his throat for attention. "Sorry to bring up a bad subject, but what's the plan now?"

Leo's eyes slid from Casey to Mikey's corpse, and Splinter's bent back as the old rat picked up one of Mikey's cold hands and held it between his paws. .

"My son, you and your brothers….you have dug Michelangelo's grave?" Splinter asked quietly, as he smoothed out the bright tendril of Mikey's mask.

Leo swallowed. "Yes, Sensei."

Splinter's grip on Mikey's hand tightened. "Mr. Jones. I understand that you were kind enough to make my son a casket?"

"Yeah. It ain't much, though. You don't have to use it, if you don't think it would be appropriate." Casey answered awkwardly.

"Mr. Jones." Splinter turned over his shoulder to face him. "Michelangelo….would have greatly appreciated such a gesture. Your kindness has dignified my son's passing. Laying Michelangelo to rest in a casket made by a family member rather than just the earth will make this sorrowful task a bit more bearable. For that, I thank you."

Splinter very gently lay Mikey's hand back at his side, and lingered a moment more to caress his fingers.

"Leonardo, please. Go and find your brothers. Tonight, we will lay our beloved Michelangelo to rest."

_Meanwhile, with Raphael and Donatello….._

The trip back to the farmhouse was even harder to face now that the distance was so short. Even though it was unspoken between them, Raph and Donny both knew they had to go back. Leaving Leo broken, Splinter alone was no longer the issue. Even when Raphael fled to solitude to collect his thoughts and 'get his head on straight,' he never strayed too far from his brothers. Before any of this, Raph would have called his behavior 'clingy.' Now, solitude was a threat. Raph hated to be alone for too long with his thoughts. It scared him too much, even if he would sooner eat burning coal than admit it.

He didn't voice it, but he instinctively turned around to see how far away Donny was with a scowl.

"You ready?" Raphael asked gruffly, and inwardly winced at how stupid the question was as soon as it left his mouth.

Donny only gave him a weary, resigned nod, as he started trudging across the field back to the farm house. Raphael was only a step or two ahead of him, and together, they walked in the wan sun, ignoring the spill of gold in the fields around them, and the dark hint of autumn's chill.

Raphael couldn't think about what they were preparing themselves to do…shutting up their baby brother's corpse in a wooden box, lowering it into that damn gaping hole, and burying Mikey.

So, Raphael didn't. He didn't think of the body, of three turtles going back, of the silence and the emptiness, and saying good-bye.

Raphael just thought about walking forward, and trying to keep his head as empty of those thoughts as possible.

From behind, he heard Donny's sudden snarl of breath, and he stopped. Donny bit back another sob, as he scrubbed away tear.

Raphael whipped around and was at Don's side in a second. "Don. What is it?"

Donny shuddered under Raphael's grip on his shoulders, as he fought the boulder in his throat to speak.

"Raph….I know that we can't just leave Mikey _out_ . We have to bury him." Donny's whisper was a strangled whisper. "We can't leave him _out."_

Raphael's mouth twisted into a grim line. "Well, yeah…Mikey's body is gonna start rot-"

Donny inhaled a breath through his clenched teeth. "Raph….don't _say _that, please. I know what happens if we leave Mikey's remains above ground too much longer. Believe me…I _know._"

Donny held both arms tight against his plastron, in the frail attempt to comfort himself. It was failing miserably.

The tortured anguish flickered over Raphael's face, and lingered before he could mask it.

"Yeah." Raph said curtly, uncertain as to what in the hell he was supposed to say to that.

" We _have_ to do this." Donny tried to force a bit of resolve into his shaking words.

"We've already waited long enough, and it's not going to get any easier." Donny's voice was as frayed as a noose as he recited the useless facts that he could not force himself to accept.

Raphael bit back a growl, as he forced himself to keep his patience. All he wanted to do was bury the mass of meat left behind, and get it done. That bruised, broken thing on the table wasn't Mikey.

Not any more.

Putting it off any more was almost as unbearable as seeing Mikey's corpse again.

"Like you said, putting it off is only gonna make it worse. You ready, then?" Raph jabbed a finger in the direction of the farm house, as Donny shook his head, despairingly.

"Raph…how in the hell do we _get_ ready for this?"

"There isn't any' getting' ready for this." Raphael wagged his fingers in the air for quotation marks. "There's only doing what needs to be done, and that's burying Mikey." Raph hitched his shoulders.

When they came to the house, Raphael steeled himself and marched up the stairs, while Donny abruptly stopped on the porch, and lingered there, not going any further.

"I'll get the casket." Donny choked out. "I'll bring it inside. Can you go ahead and tell Leo that?"

He stared at Raph with those pleading eyes before he stooped to clutch the crude wood of the casket lid.

Something flickered in Raph's eyes, as they narrowed.

"Why in the hell are you fussing about the casket,Don? What damn difference does that make _now?_ I don't-"

"_I can't do it!"_ Donny snarled, as Raphael stared, bewildered.

"You can't _what,_ Don?"Raphael's mouth twisted, the words rammed against his teeth, and died on his lips as Don exhaled a sharp, sobbing breath

"I can't put Mikey in that casket. I can't stand the thought that the last time I touch my baby brother, it will be when I shut his body in a box and putting it into the ground. I'm sorry, Raph._ I can't do it_."

(Part II of this chapter will be posted next week.)


	30. Laying the dead to rest II

I'll get the casket." Donny choked out. "I'll bring it inside. Can you go ahead and tell Leo that?"

He stared at Raph with those pleading eyes before he stooped to clutch the crude wood of the casket lid.

Something flickered in Raph's eyes, as they narrowed.

"Why in the hell are you fussing about the casket,Don? What damn difference does that make _now?_ I don't-"

"_I can't do it!"_ Donny snarled, as Raphael stared, bewildered.

"You can't _what,_ Don?"Raphael's mouth twisted, the words rammed against his teeth, and died on his lips as Don exhaled a sharp, sobbing breath

"I can't put Mikey in that casket. I can't stand the thought that the last time I touch my baby brother, it will be when I shut his body in a box and putting it into the ground. I'm sorry, Raph._ I can't do it_."

Don cringed inwardly as he breathed out. "Raph-" It sounded like a choke as he swallowed back the boulder in his throat and tried again to speak.

"I stitched up Mikey's _head._ I held him through the convulsions, I-"

"Damn it, Donny, _shut up! I don't want to hear any more!" _ Raph snarled out in anguish. Heaving, wide-eyed, Raph looked like he was going to be sick.

"Look." Raphael scrubbed a hand over his face, and was surprised to see his hand wasn't drenched in tears.

No waterworks. Good.

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. I know that you took good care of Mikey. _I know_. I also know that if I hear any more of that stuff right now, I'll lose it. And I don't know if I'd come back anytime soon, okay?"

Donny exhaled a shaking breath, and shut his eyes. When he finally scraped enough guts together to force his eyes open and look at Raph, he winced, embarrassed and awkward from losing control yet again.

Raphael was silent, for far too long before he let out a long, resigned sigh. Squinting at Don, he began,

"Don…"

Raph's voice was subdued and oddly gentle,as he shook his head, and tried again.

"Don, come on. You're tougher than _this._ When me and Leo were fallin' apart and blubbering, you were doing everything you could to save Mikey. You stitched him up, you held us together, and you did things that night that nobody should ever have to do. You were there for Mikey in ways that nobody else could be, and you made damn sure that Mikey didn't go out alone. Don, _you did more than enough_. If you can't lay Mikey to rest in that casket, then you can't. And you don't have to."

Donny finally managed a wilted attempt at a smile, and Raphael forced his own mouth to curl in return.

Raphael ignored Don's flinch when he turned back towards the door.

Scowling, Raphael squared his shoulders, as if preparing for a fight.

"Come on. Let's get this done." Raph growled as he marched forward.

After a few moments, Donny breathed out a shaking breath, and forced his leaden feet to follow. Raphael paused to heave open the flimsy screen door. Donny stooped, curled fingers under the corners of the casket, trying to heave the thing to his shoulders.

The casket was too bulky for him to maneuver, and his hands were shaking too much to get a good grip. Don yelped as it nearly slid free from his quaking hands.

"Here. Let me help, eh? " Raphael gave Don a sad smirk, when Don gave him a grateful nod.

Raphael hooked his hands underneath the casket's edges, and lifted it, as Donny gripped the other end. The wood felt cold, rough, digging little splinters into his fingers that Don ignored.

"Ready?" Raphael prompted as Donny finally nodded. Together, they heaved the casket off the porch, hoisted it high, and carried it into the house with Raphael leading.

Raphael grimly ignored Mikey's corpse as he and Donny lowered the casket to the floor. Donny abruptly yanked his hands away as soon as the casket was safely on the floor. Raphael scowled, and carefully scooted the casket over the tile until it was only inches away from the table where Mikey had been laid out.

Raphael let his hands linger on the rough wood, trying to figure out what it would be like to put Mikey into this box. He shuddered, and ignored the thought.

_One thing at a time. Don't think about that yet._

By then, the rest of his family had gathered, huddled uncertainly in the corners of the room. Casey had one arm draped over April's shoulder, as her pale hand dug into his. Casey looked exhausted, and April was wan, and miserable. Leo was staring at the corpse, as Splinter hobbled in, slowly, shoulders bent, and drooped. There was no sound but the chirp of birds outside, and the gentle hiss of autumn leaves against the light wind.

"My sons." Splinter's tears were trickling down the fur of his cheek as he gently took Mikey's cold hand between his paws. He ignored the rigid stiffness as he curled his dead son's hand and held it close.

"My sons, we must now lay Michelangelo to rest. "

It took everything Donny had not to collapse completely. He could no longer step forward and pick up Mikey's body any more than he could lift a mountain. The agony solidified in his gut, and his feet felt as if they were set in concrete.

Raphael, bless him, wrapped those solid, steady arms around him, and actually nudged him back a few inches.

And Leo, driven as always by his protective instinct of his younger siblings, met Donny's eyes and saw the wounded, helpless anguish. He walked over, and wrapped an arm around each of his surviving brothers, pressing both against his plastron, with a fierce embrace.

"I love you both. And we will get through this." Leo whispered.

Raphael raised his eyes to Mikey's corpse. "This is the low point."

"The low point?" Donny queried.

Raphael cracked a bitter smirk. "We're in hell right now, Donny. How can things get any lower? They can't. "

Looking at Leo, he jerked his head towards Mikey's body. "Come on, Fearless. Let's get this over with."


	31. Into the Silence

Raphael raised his eyes to Mikey's corpse, and muttered, "This is the low point."

Raph saw Donny's face twist in confusion, as he arched an eyebrow.

"The low point?" Donny asked, softly.

Raphael shrugged, and then he cracked a bitter smirk.

"We're in hell right now, Donny. How can things get any lower? They can't."

Donny's lips tightened into a thin line, but he said nothing in reply. There was nothing left to say.

Raphael gingerly shuffled over to the table, keeping his eyes on the wood, and not looking at the corpse until he had to. Finally, he flung out his arms, trying to scrape up enough nerve to pick up the aftermath, and not cry. Raphael grimaced down at Mikey's body, expecting to feel the familiar stab of anguish through the gut. He felt nothing at all.

He stared down at Mikey's graying skin, the withered lines around his mouth, the deepening black around his eye sockets and felt he was going to be sick. The wrecked thing on the table was no longer his brother. Raphael swallowed back the nausea, and helpless rage, yet again. Thank God that Mikey was still wrapped up in the sheets he had died in. There wasn't as much of the body to see, only the still plastron, and Mikey's fading, wilted face. Somehow, it made the whole thing slightly more bearable. He raised his hands,yet again, and tried to work up the nerve to shove them under Mikey's cold, stiff flesh. Raphael was grateful that he wouldn't have to touch Mikey's icy skin, again. It would have torn Raphael up beyond repair.

Leo hovered at his side, clearly torn between interfering and doing nothing at all.

"Come on, Fearless. Let's get this over with."

Raphael tossed the words, curtly over his shoulder. Leo stood rigidly at Raphael's side, squinting at Mikey's corpse with huge eyes, now devoid of any tears.

He flinched when Splinter very gently nudged him aside, and stepped towards the casket.

"My sons. A moment, please."

Splinter stared at the orange blanket that he had curled in his paws, before he brought the warm material to his face in tears. He closed his eyes, breathed out a sob, and buried his face in the bright, soft orange. For a moment, he could smell Michelangelo and believe that he was merely draping his son's favorite blanket over a beloved child, and not lining his casket.

Splinter grit his teeth, and held the material aloft. He watched it flutter, bright and delicate as a butterfly's wings, before he carefully set it down at the bottom of the coffin. Carefully, he unrolled it, covering every inch of the surface, and left the excess to drape over the sides. When they lay Michelangelo down at last, he intended to cocoon his son's body with the blanket. He heard the rustling of cloth, and some soft, lumpy thing being pressed into his paws.

Turning, Splinter saw Leonardo's bowed head, and trembling hands holding Michelangelo's favorite pillow- worn white, ragged at the edges, and adorned with faded orange stitching.

Splinter forced his lips to curl into a brief smile of gratitude, as he lay a paw on Leo's wrist.

"Thank you, my son. Michelangelo would have appreciated this."

Splinter lay the pillow in the coffin. Now, the wretched box was looking more like a place for Michelangelo to rest, if he were still alive.

"Master Splinter?" Leo queried, soft and uncertain, as the elderly rat only gave Leo a nod of permission to continue.

Leo walked over to Mikey's corpse, where Raphael stood, arms folded, and scowling. Leo ignored the tears sliding down Raph's cheeks, and the tremble in his hands.

"Ready?" He whispered, as Raphael exhaled.

Bitterly, Raphael shook his head. "Hell, no. I'm not ready."

Leo gave Raphael that desolate look of compassion.

"If you need to wait a bit longer…."Leo's voice trailed off, and Raphael recoiled.

Turning to Leo, he hissed through clenched teeth, "Leo, we could wait ten lifetimes, and we'd never be ready to bury him. Let's get this _over with."_

Raphael sucked in a shaking breath, shut his eyes, and eased his arms under the nest of sheets, under Mikey's knees and shell. At his side, Leo cradled Mikey's slack neck against his elbow.

Together, they lifted their brother, Leo desperately trying to fix his eyes on anything besides Mikey's empty, wan face, and Raphael nearly sick from how cold and stiff Mikey's legs felt against his arm, even through the blankets.

It was strange how six steps felt like six miles, and how light Mikey's body was in his arms.

_Maybe Mikey's soul has flown free, after all, and that's why. _ The thought gave Raph a bit of comfort.

Raphael and Leo were silent as they carried their baby brother for the last time. Raphael gently set Mikey's feet down first, as Leo reverently settled Mikey's head on the pillow.

In the doorway of the porch, April huddled against Casey, as she quietly sobbed and scraped more tears away with the shredded tissue. Casey draped an arm over her shaking shoulders, and held her close, pausing only to snort back some tears of his own. He didn't know what to do, except comfort April as best he could. April was clutching the vase that held the flowers she had bought, intending to set them on Mikey's grave when this was all over. Both of the humans lingered on the edge of the tragedy, wanting to say their farewells, but not wanting to intrude or inflict more pain.

Splinter stiffened when he heard her sob, and tilted his head, peering at her and Casey with those ravaged eyes. He gently beckoned them over, closer to the casket, and whispered, "Miss O'Neil, Mr. Jones. My son considered you to be part of his family, as do we. Please lay the flowers here, by Michelangelo. He would have appreciated them greatly."

Casey gave April a reassuring squeeze with his arm, and she took out the flowers and held them in a trembling fist. Casey awkwardly lay the sunflower across Mikey's plastron, and shook his head, at the brutality of the whole thing. "

"Can…can we say something?"Casey ventured uncertainly, as Splinter nodded. "Please."

Casey swallowed hard, and turned back to Mikey's casket. He sighed, and shook his head again.

"Mikey…"He scrubbed a hand through his dark hair. "I know that you and I didn't really get each other all the time, but you were family, and I'm damn proud of that. I'm glad to have known you, and I'm sorry about how you left us. You didn't deserve it, buddy. God knows, _you didn't_. I hope that I see you again, one day. Until then, I hope you rest in peace. Oh, and if you can, watch out for your brothers, okay? "

He stepped away before anybody could see his waterworks.

April, by then, was sobbing. She set the flowers down beside Mikey's still head, a bright, perverse contrast of garish color against the gray.

She reached down and twined the orange tail of his mask between her fingers before smoothing it out. "Mikey….I'm going to miss you. I'm going to miss you so much. Thanks for all the times you made me smile. I hope you know how much I appreciate it now. I'm sorry that I didn't appreciate that when you were with us, and I hope that you can forgive me for that." She knelt down, and lay one hand over his arm. She whispered, "Good-bye, Mikey."

(Author's note: More to come quickly, as I intend to end this story soon. Thanks for your patience, and God bless).

Master Splinter hobbled up to the casket, lay one paw across Mikey's frigid cheek, and smoothed the bright tail of the mask until it rested on Mikey's shoulder. He took the corners of the blanket between his trembling paws, and tucked them around Mikey's arms, under his chin, as he had so many times when his youngest son was alive and sleeping. The beloved ritual gave some brittle solace, as Splinter caressed his dead son's forehead.

"Rest now, my brave son. My brave, brave Michelangelo."


	32. The Open Wound

Author's note: This is part of a longer chapter that I am currently re-writing. I will have the next chapter up very soon, since this story is coming to an end. Thanks, CM

_Donny's viewpoint:_

Donny felt guilt sear in his gut yet again as he cowered in the bathroom, wondering if he was going to be sick again. He had excused himself abruptly even as he fled the room, ignoring Leo's bewildered gaze, and Raphael's glare. He had scrubbed his face twice, but he couldn't stop the blanched exhaustion and anguish that made him look so wan and old.

Donny's fingers curled over the piece of paper that he held in his clenched, shaking hand. Mikey's last letter was still unread, still tucked in its envelope, still unopened. He snarled, furious at his own carelessness, at wrinkling the precious last scrap of Mikey.

He had kept the letter tucked in his belt, shoved under his pillow, close as skin. He stared down at his hands, stupidly, wondering for the thousandth time how less than a week ago, he had stitched Mikey's head back together, held his brother as he was dying, and yet now..

Don couldn't even stomach one last glance at Mikey's remains. What was the point now? Donny had spent far too many hours peering down at that wan, marbling face, watching as the eyes blackened, flattened out with the decomposition, and finally sank in the sockets. He had watched Mikey's skin go from green to gray, the limbs go from limp to stiff, and the last time he had looked, Donny had scrambled out of the room and straight to the bathroom. There, in the that tiny, nicely tiled haven, Donny had turned on the facet to the shower to drown out any noise. He nearly fell to his knees as he wrenched the toilet lid upward. And then, Donny vomited until there was nothing left but those agonizing dry-heaves, that desperate choking for breath as he sobbed. He remembered shoving his hands over his face, shoving the palms over his eyes to stop the ache, to stop the horrible image of Mikey's corpse out of memory.

Donny rocked back, felt the wall against his shell, and finally allowed his legs to buckle, as he slithered downward and came to a halt when he was sitting on the floor. He curled his knees up, folded his arms over his knees, and stared at the blue tile, numbly.

How hard would he have to slam his skull against the wall to be knocked unconscious? Would he ever be able to close his eyes and not see that broken corpse? Would he ever be able to remember Mikey without seeing the blood, the convulsions, and recalling that tortured, strangled grunt before Mikey died?

Donny grimaced, feeling the bile climbing to the back of his throat once again. He swallowed hard, and forced it back down. He was not going to be sick.

Mercifully, the urge to vomit dulled enough for him to unclench the arm across his plastron, shove his palms against the tile, and haul himself to his shaking feet.

How in the hell was he going to get through this? Donny's lips thinned.

If this were a machine, a technical problem…..what would he be doing now?

Donny ignored the tendril of guilt coiling in his gut. On one hand, it felt disgusting to reduce Mikey's passing to a brutal series of steps to take. It felt so wrong to shove aside all the emotional turmoil, the guilt, the anguish, and worse yet, the all encompassing emptiness that left Donny more gutted than anything else.

On the other, more logical, more _doable _side, it _worked_. The detachment, the ability to separate himself from the emotional storm so that he could actually _do_ something…maybe.

Donny had done the same thing when Mikey had died, and a hell of a lot of good that did. While his brothers were huddled together and sobbing together in the perverse refuge of innocent disbelief, Donny had found himself absolutely alone.

He had almost forced Raph to drag Leo away, and nearly sent Splinter away, too, so that he could think, and work, and _try_ to save Mikey.

Donny remembered the slick red that coated his fingers as he cupped Mikey's skull and stitched the skin together. He remembered the desperation in shoving his hands over the plastron, fearing that he'd break Mikey's ribs, forcing breath into those clenched jaws, and stopping in horror when Mikey's entire body jackknifed upward and started the shaking.

The convulsions. Those death throes, where Mikey quaked under his hands, with that choking gurgle, those horrible, trapped sounds coming from the back of his throat, and worse, the moment when Mikey went still, and stopped breathing at all in that long, tortured silence.

Splinter had been at Donny's side then, clutching Mikey's hand between his trembling paws, locked in that silent plea, and waiting for the next breath.

Donny had his own fingers coated in blood, and shoved against the pulse point at Mikey's throat. Donny felt Mikey's heartbeat fluttering erratically, as the blood poured from his head.

Donny remembered being paralyzed for a moment, as he stared down at his broken, wounded brother, wondering if he should try more CPR to restore the breathing, and the heartbeat, or ask Splinter to press the towel harder so that Mikey wouldn't bleed to death.

But, Mikey wasn't just dying from a head wound, not any more. Maybe the hit had damaged some core part of Mikey's brain, the part that controlled breathing. Maybe Mikey had some unseen damage that Donny wouldn't find in time. Maybe he was just bleeding to death internally, and Donny was wasting valuable time trying to do anything else.

_What in the hell do I do? _

At the moment, Mikey's breathing and pulse were just there, and falling fast. The breathing was more choked, more drawn out, heaving and sick through Mikey's mangled insides.

The heartbeat was barely a dull thud, and slowing. Donny felt his hands slide from Mikey's wounds to the table, as he hunched over and fought the urge to be sick again from his shattered nerves.

He flinched when Splinter's warm, furred paw covered his shaking hands and drew them up in a gentle grip.

Splinter's eyes were bright with tears as he looked at Donny.

"There is nothing else that can be done, is there, Donatello?"

Donny remembered hitching his shoulders, curling his fingers in helpless fists, his head shaking out the terrible answer, and his eyes flooding.

"I…I can't do anything else, Master Splinter. I'm not a doctor, I don't know how to-"

Splinter stopped his hysterics by gathering his broken, _living_ son in his arms, and shushing him against his shoulder.

"You are not responsible for Michelangelo's dying, my son. Because of you, Michelangelo will spend his last hours here, home, with his family, and not _up there-" _ Splinter snarled, and drew a shaking breath.

Donny felt his paws tighten against him, as Splinter shut his eyes in helpless rage. Calm again, Splinter peered into his eyes.

"You have cared for Michelangelo at his greatest need. Do not take this burden, Donatello. Do not blame yourself. _Do not."_

Splinter slipped his paws away from Donatello, and resumed their death grip on one of Mikey's hands. Not looking up from his dying son, Splinter whispered, softly, "Donatello, please. Get Leonardo and Raphael."

Donny had done that. He remembered muttering out something about Mikey dying through the choked snot of tears, not quite believing the words as they tumbled out of his throat.

He remembered those last, surreal moments, when Mikey was cradled, held, prayed over, loved so very fiercely, and the horrible, abrupt realization that he could no longer feel a heart beat, and Mikey had gone completely still.

It was a death that Donny had relived far too many times.

His vicious thoughts were interrupted by the almost timid knock, and Leo's worried query.

"Don, are you alright?" Donny scowled at the door, not knowing how to answer.

The timid knock grew nearly frantic as Leo pounded on it.

"Donny, please. Please open the door."

Sure, Leo was polite, and generally respectful of a shut door, but he certainly never stood behind one with that pleading tone before. It made the sting of guilt grow claws.

Donny opened the door, and stepped out, the apology already forming on his lips.

Leo didn't say anything. He just lay one of his hands on Donny's shoulder, and left it there for a moment before sliding his hand away.

Leo folded his hands over his plastron, almost nervously. He raised his dark eyes to Donny.

"We're going to carry the casket to the grave, Donny." Leo swallowed. "I came to see if you wanted to help."


End file.
